You Don't Know Jack
by KatStorm
Summary: A fangirl in serious need of a reality check, a schizophrenic martial arts expert, a dyslexic tomboy, and a kleptomaniac somehow end up smack-dab in the middle of the DN plot. Too bad the fangirl's overprotective mom had to tag along.
1. Level Zero

_I know, I know. I should _not_ have started another story, but I've had this idea in my head for _ages_ but have been struggling with how to pull it off. Many of you are familiar with the cliche OC plots 'girl goes to DN world' plot and 'girl and girl's friends go to the DN world.' In some of these, adult activity cease to exist so that the young characters feel free to do whatever they please relationship wise with the canon characters. And because they're dedicated fangirls, they know anything and everything about the series so that they may save their favorite character (whomever it may be) and therefor "seal the deal" with their relationship. If you've read any of my works, you've probably realized that I like to twist common ideas to their full limit, so I figured, what the heck! Why not?_

_But I figured that if crazed fangirls were allowed in the Death Note universe, why not an overprotective, control-freak mother? And while we're at it, let's throw in a complete stranger who has the worst luck in all of human history! Ooh, and how about making the main character the only __person who knows what Death Note is? Hmm... and while we're at it, we'll give said main character a normal life, no true abilities, and a knack for clumsiness! Three cheers for chaotic stories! XD_

**_Notes/Warnings:  
>- <em>**_CONSTRUCTION_**_. _**_This story is currently undergoing reconfiguration since I messed up the timeline back when I stared this story in 2012. I totally haven't been postponing the update for a few years...  
>- as of 2015, this story has a beta!<br>- bad narrating is intentional when in Jewel's POV  
><em>

_I do not own Death Note, but you might be able to guess what would happen if I did... :3_

* * *

><p><strong>Level Zero<strong>

When someone asks if you want to hear a blonde joke, you immediately assume that the blonde will not be having her best of days. She finds herself asking directions when she falls from the Empire State Building, looking for the corner in that circular room while blindfolded, and a few other amusing situations. (And yes, it's usually a "she.") When you picture a blonde, what's the first thing that comes to your mind?

Probably someone like me.

Joking! I'm a hundred and two percent redheaded, but I had you going, didn't I? Well, alright. I dyed blonde streaks in my bangs, but that's it! Then again, I might as well be a blonde; I sure have the balance of one.

My name is Juliana Cueva, and I'll be your comedian for the night. (Yeah, yeah, I know. My last name is Hispanic, but no one in my family even has a Hispanic ancestor, much less knows how to speak Spanish! I think someone screwed up a birth certificate a few generations back...) I have short, flaming red hair that comes down just past my chin and exotic blue eyes that can _stare right into your very soul_ and can _burn you alive_ with my awesome _laser vision_ and-

Pfft. I wish. When I said my hair was "flaming," I meant both the color and the out-of-control-ness fire usually has. It's called "wild fire" for a reason. That's probably not a word, but let's pretend it is for now. I meant "out-of-control-ness," not fire. And my eyes are no where _near_ exotic. Imagine a bar of white chocolate. Now drop it in a mud puddle. _That's_ what my eyes look like: a disaster that looked like it should have been white, but ended up splotched with brown. My mom says it's a genetic disorder; I say it's a genetic discord. It's been years, and my little joke continues to pass over her head and out the nearest window to its fairly repetitive death.

People usually ask me what I want to be when I grow up. My answer? 'Do I _have_ to grow up?' All adults do nowadays are complain, argue, complain some more and pay bills. Rinse and repeat. If my life became as repetitive as my joke's deaths, I just might have an aneurysm.

So when one of my two best friends ask me what my job is during a game of Life, I reply brightly, "A writer!"

Now would normally be where other people would back up and begin a long, drawn out back story about who they are, when they were born and how many times they've went to the bathroom in the past nine years. I mean, hello! Readers don't need to know your entire life story crammed into two paragraphs. Does "personal" not hold any water with readers nowadays? All you need to know about me is that I'm a senior in high school and I hold the record for most injuries caused by falling. Anything else that you need to know- well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

So it was me, Eve and G sitting on a pile of seeds in the middle of the weeds. (Guess who can't write poetry!) No, really. We were sitting out in a middle of a field on Eve's grandparent's farm. Why? Simple:

We. Were. _Bored_.

"Wow... Why didn't I think of that..?" mutters G. Okay, her real name isn't G, but her mom's been AWOL since she was five and her dad's a notorious crack addict. After all, no sane person has named their daughter Gabriela since the Edict of Nantes. (My apologies if someone has. No offense meant. But guess who's failing World History IV?)

"Because life sucks..?" suggests Eve jokingly. Yep, another long name, but mine and G's don't hold a candle to Evangeline. (I honestly think the name rocks, but try telling Eve otherwise.)

We were friends, bound by the insane length of our names. Epic, no? (See! I'm _not_ failing English! Epic = poetic. I feel smart!) At least they were somewhat reasonable. I'd keel over dead if someone changed my name to something French.

So we sit, bored, as we wait for the nothingness to end. Hey, the end of the world sounded fun right about now! It was exciting, right?

I fall onto my back, eyes closed, and murmur, "All in favor of drop-kicking the game board into a nonexistent creek say 'ay.'"

There is a chorus of 'ay's, so I sit up and look around at my two best friends.

Eve is your poster girl blonde (blue eyes, slender body, the whole shibang), but she's definitely not your run-of-the-mill sort of girl. Evangeline is schizophrenic, and some days, you can really tell when the schizophrenia's kicking in. One minute, you're having a goofy conversation and the next- BOOM! It's 'uh, where's Eve?' 'Oh, y'know. Just barking up a tree.' (And sometimes, we do mean that literally.)

Unfortunately for me, Eve isn't providing a source of amusement, so I turn to G.

Gabriela has the longest freaking hair I've ever seen. It's a beautiful shade of brown that reminds me of dark chocolate, and comes down to her hips. Most of the time, it's in an intricate braid or a simple ponytail. The "in-between" option is rarely ever seen because it's so long that it gets in her way when it's down. Her eyes are a dark shade of green that reminds me of her birthstone, emerald.

Today we're wearing matching black tank tops and khaki shorts. (I know, I lovely fashion statement.) Tennis shoes for G, flip flops for Eve, steel-toed boots for me. I know. I'm ol' fashioned.

"Does anyone want to play Concentration 64?" I ask, eyes closed as I stretch out on my back in the heat of the sun.

"How about something that doesn't require effort?" comes G's voice.

"Point addressed," I amend. I open my mouth to say something else- but get cut off before I can even begin. (How is that even possible?)

A loud cannon blast shoots all three of us to our feet.

"What the..?" G's eyes are wider than I've ever seen them, and Eve is somehow an even paler shade of snow white.

"Was that a gun shot?" whispered Eve.

I know my mouth is moving, but nothing's coming out. I know I should say something, but I can't.

More gun shots. Eve is beginning to hyperventilate and is staggering backwards; G isn't doing much of anything.

And then my mouth decides to take over.

"Mello!"

Wait, what?

G is gaping at me like I'm insane, and then it happens.

"_Who the hell is shooting on my grandparents' farm?_" roars Evangeline, eyes blazing. G takes a step back as Eve storms forward, grabbing my hand and G's. "Come on, girls. We're going to give this guy a piece of our minds."

"Are you crazy?" G wrenches her hand from Eve's grasp. "People run _away_ from gunshots, not towards them!"

"Are you suggesting that we retreat?" hisses Eve.

"We're not retreating," I assure her, butting in. "We're advancing in a different direction, now come on!"

"Fine. Turn tail and run if you're in a cowardly mood. Suit yourself." And she's gone, disappearing into the field with only waving fronds to show that she had ever bypassed the place.

I exchange a blank glance with G, too shocked to make our expressions match our feelings.

Confession: anime/manga freak that I am. The works of _moi_ will more than likely be filled with me quoting a few of my favorites. For example, shouting out 'Mello!' Yep. Fangirl-ness at work. Anyone who is always seen with guns and chocolate is my kind of guy. At least now you have proof that I may not be the weirdest of our little group.

"Should we go after her..?" asks G warily.

I shrug. "It'd be cool if it really _was_ Mello."

My horrible attempt at a joke flies over her head and crash-lands somewhere in the barley, dead. I was the only one who had read/watched Death Note, so I'm not surprised.

"Let's go," she sighs and we take off at a flat run after her.

And yes, common sense was currently on a week-long vacation, but I rarely miss it. What the hey, I'm bipolar, people! Heh, it fits the bill. Eve's schizophrenic and G's dyslexic, so why not?

We reach the end of the field and skid to a halt to get a good look around. The two-story farmhouse (that doubles as a barn) is staring us straight in the face. It's a faded shade of green, though its roof was a dark forest green. It's door are a shade of white that might have once been white but is now a tan-gray color. It's the kind of place that screams 'Welcome home!'

And it was screaming alright, or rather, the people inside of it.

I bolt forward, recognizing the enraged roar of Evangeline and the doubled shriek of her grandparents. And the scream of my mom. I forgot that my mom was coming to pick me up today...

But all I can think about it what's happening inside. My heart is hammering in my chest, blood roaring in my ears. I can faintly hear G's footsteps pounding the dirt as we charge towards the building.

Then common sense catches up to me, and I slam to a halt, G tumbling into me.

"Quick, this way!" I hiss and realign my path to Eve's window. Nope. My common sense moments never last long.

G shoots me a look.

"If someone's attacking them, they'll expect us to come through the front or side door. Eve's bedroom's at the back of the house. We can climb in through her window using that old tree as leverage," I explain hurriedly as we run.

She nods, emerald eyes wide.

We reach the back of the house and I immediately take a flying leap at the tree and hoist myself onto the highest branch I can reach- which is almost three feet from the ground. No, I'm not much of an athlete. I turn and hold out my hand for G, who grabs it and uses it to swing herself onto a branch above mine. Together, we reach the top in no time, hands full of splinters, but we could be worse.

More gun shots. More screams. This time, I can make out Eve's terrified wailing above everyone else's. Guess her mood swing ended as swiftly as it began.

I scale the rooftop as quickly as I can, then thrust Eve's window open and dive inside. I hit the ground running, literally.

Not even making sure if G is behind me, I bolt down the hallway into Eve's grandparents' room. _There was a gun around here somewhere..._ I think in desperation. _Oh, screw it!_

I backpedal into the hallway only to run headlong into G, who's supporting the old shotgun. A single nod, then I put my hands on the railing and jump for all it's worth, landing squarely on my feet on the floor below.

I told you before that I'm not much of an athlete, well that comes into play now.

I tumble head over heels as momentum of the impact rolls me off my feet. I crash into something hard, my left ankle throbbing, my head ablaze. I sit up with a groan. So much for my dramatic entrance.

Though my vision is blurry, I can make out G explode from the open stairwell, gun cocked and aimed at-

Me.

I scream and dive sideways, only to be hampered by my bad ankle. Maybe I'd broken it. I collapse to the floor and screech, "_Are you crazy! I'm not the one you want, moron!_"

"Put your hands in the air!" Though she's terrified- I would know my best friend- her voice doesn't waver. As my sight begins to clear, I look around, but alone to be met by a horrible sight.

A black-clad figure is on the floor, gun aimed at G, who's gun is also aimed at the figure. Eve and my mom, Lily are crouched in a corner, eyes wide in terror. When my eyes land on the two limp figures and the pool of red they lay in, I look away as fast as I can.

This was wrong, all wrong.

"Drop the gun," growls the figure, who I presume is a man.

"Same to you," hisses G. I can see sweat forming on her brow and her legs are trembling slightly. The girl the strongest of all of us, but even those with the most stamina give out eventually.

Eve and her grandparents won't be able to help, and Mom is out of the count.

Slowly, as not to draw attention to myself, I shift my weight to my right foot as I drag myself into a sitting position. Then, on the world's stupidest impulse, I throw myself headfirst at the man and scream at the top of my lungs, "_Look out, Rue!_"

A gun goes off, but I can't tell whose. All I know is that the world is suddenly crumbling around me and I am falling into a black abyss.

_I'm sorry, Eve, G,_ I think as my mind swirls into nothingness.


	2. Wonderland

_Lookie lookie! A long overdue update! I do apologize for the wait. My lovely friends decided to enter me in a writing contest at the last second, then tell me the day before the stories were due. XD So... I had to come up with a plot _and_ write it in twenty-four hours, which I did. After a while, I finally got back into the swing of writing. (Also, the title of the story will become evident in the second chapter, to clear up any confusion.)_

**_Notes/Warnings:  
><em>**_- chaos, havoc, and pandemonium galore  
>- Jewel still sucks at narrating<br>- unintentional, discreet whiskey puns  
><em>

_I do not own DN._

* * *

><p><strong>Wonderland<strong>

I blink, then realize I'm standing. Then my left ankle gives out, and I'm sprawled on the grass, pain throbbing my foot. Wincing, I blink again and look around, only for my mouth to hit the dirt.

No. Freaking. Way.

The signs, the people, the smells; it had to be a dream. Just just had to. There was no other explanation. I would have given every last dime to stand on both feet and scream to the world, "_Heck yes!_"

But reality, even twisted reality, has to have its way.

I look down at my bad foot, which I now notice is twisted in an awkward position. It's dislocated at the very least. Stupid reality.

Then I remember my surroundings.

My gaze shoots back up as I stare around with eyes wider than the Great Plains.

Ladies and gentlemen, you've probably heard of people passing out and finding themselves in a different place than they lost consciousnesses, no? Well, that was exactly what happened to me, but on _very_ different terms.

After all, it's not every day people pass out in American and end up on the other side of the world in Japan. Yessirie: Japan. Land of anime, manga and awesome hieroglyphical words. I know a grand total of eight words in Japanese: _kawaii_, _nii-san_, _onii-san_, _wa_, _moshi_ _moshi_, _baka_, _gomen'nasai_, and _kon'nichiwa_. (Or would the extra 'moshi' in hello make it nine..? Eh, who cares. And yeah, I know two different ways of saying hello. I'm awesome like that.) In other words, I was basically screwed.

See, if life were a fanfiction, I would magically gain the necessary knowledge needed to speak Japanese. I would also be able to fluently read and write it. I would also have D cup boobs, lovely hair and eyes, an amazing sense of balance, and an overall Barbie girl complexion. (Gag me.)

See why real life and fanfictions have little in common? Guess how much changed when I woke up? Um... let me think...

Nothing. Well, _maybe_ the hypnotic diamond necklace was new... Joking! As I said before: real life no equal fanfics. (Though a spiked diamond dog collar would have been cool...)

And then I remember, yet again, where I am.

I look around, awed, as my sights land on...

_What the heck is that?_ I squint and shift a little for a better view- then shake my head and laugh. Here I am in the middle of Japan and I'm concerned about something off in the distance. Hah! I feel smart...

I take a good look around, trying to decipher exactly where I could be. My current location looks to be a small park. Trees dot the edges of the large patch of grass in the middle of the city, bushes placed accordingly between them. There's a silver fountain with a statue of _something_ in the middle, but I can't make it out properly; it's on the other side of the park. A black, metallic-looking fence cuts off part of the park, and I can faintly see young children running around on playground equipment, squealing in delight.

A quick glance to my right- and I bash my head against the underside of a bench.

"Ow..." I mutter, rub my head, and glare at it. Even so, I guess I shouldn't turn my head so sharply. "Darn bench..."

And then I see what's laying on it, and I find myself leaping backwards, only to squint and stare harder.

"...G..?" I ogle at the girl splayed out on the closely-lined wooden beams. Here she is, in all of her glory, looking perfectly find, aside from the awkward position of her right leg as it dangles off of the bench.

At the sound of her name, G lets out a muffled moan that sounds vaguely like, "Ugame..."

Say wha..? "Uhh... G..? Are you okay..?" I ask, frowning. Another flare of pain causes me to wince when I try to slide around to the front of the bench where she can see me. Gritting my teeth, I drape my injured leg over my right and crab-walk (correction: hobble like a drunk on my hands and leg while in the crab position) around the bench.

"Hey, G, you might wanna wake up now," I whisper, looking around.

Okay, I don't know about you all, but I for one get freaked out a little bit when I wake up on the other side of the planet, hobbled by speech and impaired mobility. Today wasn't an exception.

"Ten more minutes..." she mumbled and rolls over- right off of the bench. Despite our current predicament, a little giggle escapes me when my best friend sits straight up and says in complete honesty, "Wait a second! _This isn't Kansas!_"

"Welcome to Japan!" I say, grinning, but the smile melts from my face when I catch the look of horror on Gabriela's.

"J...Japan..?" she whispers, eyes wide. I nod. "Oh, God, J. Please tell me this is just another one of your jokes..."

I shake my head. "Nope."

"You swear?"

"Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!" I say proudly.

She stares at me weirdly.

"Nevermind..." I mutter. I guess we all can't quote television shows with as much awesomeness as the characters themselves... (Yeah, yeah, I know. But hey, I warned you about my obsession with... anime/manga, so animated shows in general kinda fit the bill in my world, even if they don't originate from Asia.)

"But still... Japan..? How the crap did we end up here..?" she breathes as she looks around. The more she takes in, the more and more I can make out the unease in her eyes.

I shrug. "You tell me, Cap'in."

"But... but..._ no!_" she shoots to her feet faster than a speeding bullet.

Bullet...

Holy schist! I was shot!

I immediately search myself for any signs the other wound, though I come up with the same results: my foot hurts.

But... I had been shot, right? That's why I passed out- _I died_. Right..? At the moment, I was terrified. Had I been shot, been sent to a hospital, lived, moved to Japan, lost my memory and somehow ended up in a park? Had I died and gone to Paradise? What about Eve?

"Eve!" I squeak. I'd completely forgotten about my other best friend!

"_It's New Years Eve?_" G looks ready to faint, throw up, scream, or do all of the above.

"No! I mean, Eve! Where's Eve?" I stagger to my foot as best I can, steadying myself on the arm of the bench.

"Eve's right here, sweetie. I've got her."

Oh, heck... This is not happening... Why me? Why me?

I pivot to see my mother helping the blonde limp along the sidewalk.

Okay, ladies and gentlemen! For those of you who have never met my mother, please allow me to warn you to _flee for your lives_. No joke. Run until you pass out; the alternative can get scary.

My mother easily reaches six feet tall, with an inch to spare. I get my hair color from her, but the waves and corkscrew curls are all her own. No one else in my entire family has them. Her eyes are also the icy blue you expect to find in the profile of cold-hearted serial killers. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother, but sometimes... Let's just say that as a call out to all of those with overprotective, control freak parents: don't worry. You are not alone. She's also the freakishly ambitious type you normally see in men who want to conquer the world.

My mother wants to conquer the _universe_.

All joshing aside, she's a pretty good mom when it's us... together, alone. We joke around and goof off, as though we were nothing but teenage friends. We spend afternoons watching the Gilmore Girls (don't laugh, I actually like the show) or reruns of NCIS while choking on our popcorn as we die laughing. When it's just the two of us, she's one of the people I'm closest to, but the moment someone else comes into the picture... BOOM! Gone is my mother, and then... something else replaces her, I swear. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a- okay, okay. You get it.

This is also why she knows nothing about me watching/reading anime/manga. Most of the anime I watch (Death Note and Wolf's Rain, to name a few) are definitely _not_ things she would approve of her eighteen year old daughter watching. So I hide them. (And to whomever might be reading this, if you know my mother, please _do not tell her!_ It will be the death of me!)

Then again, some of the other shows I watch may be of questionable relations with a lot more people than my mother... *cough cough*

But _anyways_... as I said before, you don't really want to know _everything_ about me, do you? Mystery in a woman is always good, right? Right.

My mother was wearing a simple turquoise tank top that brought out the blue in her eyes more prominently, black business pants and heels so high and pointy they could have passed as a weapon in the Middle Ages. The familiar four leaf clover necklace I gave her when I was nine hangs around her neck on a silver chain. It's a simple locket with a tiny clover carved into the front, a picture of me on one side and a picture of Dad on the other.

"Eve! Mom!" I say, worry lacing my tone. "Is everyone okay?"

"Eve was shot, but the bullet barely grazed her," replies Lilly.

Bullet...

I shiver. I can still remember the way the pain exploded in my foot, my vision fading to black, the pounding of my heart ceasing to exist.

_Snap out of it, Juliana. You can take it._

I force myself to take a few deep breaths before I speak. "Mom, Eve, I just finished telling G where we are, and we seem to be in Japan."

My mother sets a shocked Eve down on the bench before whirling around to face me. "Japan? Are you positive this isn't China?" she demands, staring me straight in the eye.

I flinch a little at her harsh gaze. "Mom, a few of my friends at school know a little Japanese and they taught me what some of the... symbols stand for. The swirly one that looks like it should have been a circle but was drawn by a two-year-old and ended up looking like a mixture of a circle and a 'Y' is the equivalent to an English 'e'. There's a few on that sign over there." I point. "Also, the population of Japan in miniscule compared to that of China's."

She squints at the sign, then turns back to me. "If this is Japan, then why are we here?"

There's no hope for me now... unless I play the part of a helpless little girl. It's the only thing that still works, even at eighteen. "I... I don't know..." I whisper. "I remember lunging for that boy with the gun, then darkness." The shiver that racks my body is not fake. I almost died. Who knows? Maybe I'm dead now.

"Juliana, come here," she holds out her arms, but I duck away from them.

"If the four of us are here... and Eve's grandparents are..." A pained look from Eve is enough to make me reword the sentence. "The four of us are here, and the grandparents aren't coming... then what happened to the boy?"

G freezes, eyes wide. Lilly is staring at me, while Eve bites her lower lip savagely.

"Juliana, you shouldn't be thinking about that. What we need now is-" And then she noticed my ankle. "Juliana! What happened to you?"

I scurry sideways just out of her prying reach as best I can on one leg. "I jumped from the top of the stairs and landed wrong. It just hurts a little, that's all."

"Julie, you need to see a doctor! It looks horrid!" she gasps, empathic pain flashing in her eyes.

Thanks, Mom. You sure know how tow make a girl feel good.

"Listen, Mom, I'm fine! Honest!" I insist as we continue our little dance around the bench. I for one feel more like a moron by the second when Eve shoots to her feet, eyes dangerously dark.

"_You_."

I've never heard so much force masked behind a single word.

I follow her line of sight to someone leaning against a tree just across the paved pathway. A sight I recognize all too well.

"You!" I exclaim, pointing. "You shot me!"

The figure is now dressed in a manor in which I can't see his face. I recognize the black hoodie from the farm, but he's wearing the hood up now. He's also wearing baggy jeans with tears in the knees and rugged black tennis shoes.

"Yeah, so?" he replied in a bored tone. His voice is rough, as thought it had already begun to break at a young age.

"You..." Eve begins to shake like a leaf, and I know that her "evil twin" has come back to play. "You killed... my grandparents... You broke into our house, shot Juliana, killed my grandparents... You sick, sick _bastard!_"

She screams the last word and lunges for him with such speed and ferocity that I find myself pitying the teen for a nanosecond, but no longer. Then Eve is on him.

I find myself watching in awe at the fight before me. I don't know why, but I can't seem to move. I'm paralyzed, frozen, as my best friend lashes out again and again with fists that never connect. The boy seems to be part hummingbird as he zips around, easily dodging all of Eve's punches. At one point, Eve backs him up against the tree, but he sidesteps at the last second. But instead of Eve punching the tree head-on, her fist snaps open into a palm and she slaps the tree. Her foot soon follows, and then she backflips off of the tree, landing directly in front of the teen. I watch as a powerful roundhouse kick catches him in the side, barely nicking him, but it's enough to catch him off balance.

And it's enough to snap me out of my spell, and G's too.

We dive forward as one and tackle the guy, pinning him to the ground against the base of the tree. I grab his right arm (well, my right, his left), swallow my dignity and sit smack-dab on the center of his chest, my good leg twisting his left (my right) into a lock in the crook of the knee with my other leg. Over my left shoulder, I can see G gripping his wrist in a grasp so tight it hurt to look at it.

He won't be getting away any time soon.

A swift glance around me showed that the only person around us who was startled was my mother. Luckily for us, in some ways, life _is_ like a fanfiction: the people never seem to give a crap about "domestic" violence.

"Who are you?" demands Eve as she leans forward and grabs the front of the boy's shirt.

"Um... not to be a smart-aleck, but this might help," I reach over and swiftly flick the hood back from his face.

The boy has sandy blonde hair, shaggy, but still cut short. His dark gray eyes are narrowed as he glares up at us, mostly Eve. I find myself hit with sudden feeling of deja vu.

_Where have I seen you before..?_ I think as I stare down at him. He certainly didn't go to school with me- it wasn't that type of familiarity- yet...

Evangeline's rage drew me out of the shadows of my mind.

"You... you..."

Eve shoots to her feet, eyes narrowed, jerking the boy up with her by his arm. I bet she can feel our penetrating stares on her back as she slams the boy back against the tree with exceptional force. I never knew Eve was this strong.

With a sudden squeak, Eve releases the boy and jerks her hand backwards as though she'd been shocked. "You! I know you!" she breathes.

I mouth drops. _She said what?_

The boy looks up at her with distrusting eyes. "Highly doubt it," he mutters. Once again, I find myself wondering where I'd seen him before.

_His voice sounds so familiar..._ I purse my lips.

"You're the boy from Ohio..." she continues, as thought he'd never spoken, "...your name was... Jack."

_Oh... Oh. Oh!_ I gape at him. _Jack, Jack Daniels! The-_

"You're the kleptomaniac who robbed the jewelry store last fall when I went to see my aunt!" G buts in with a gasp of her own. "I was there, and the whole thing was on the news afterwords! You killed everyone!"

My vision is suddenly blocked by a sea of turquoise as my mother throws herself in front of her helpless daughter in a futile attempt at bravery. (Really, mom? Really?) Annoyed, I sidestep so that I can continue to gawk.

"You, young man, are in more trouble than you've-"

"Yeah, yeah, so what? They all say that," Jack yawned, interrupting her, thought looking as thought he really didn't give a crap.

All at once, my shock disappears with my mood swing and I find myself dying of boredom. I glance around, seeking a new source of entertainment as my mother and Jack duke it out. Who knows, maybe they'll end up killing each other and saving us all a load of trouble.

Unfortunately, all that looks remotely promising is a large, flat screen television I can barely see over the roof of a two-story building. For the moment, it looks like the news is on, but since I don't know Japanese and I can't lip read, I am pretty much stranded.

I sigh and start to turn when something onscreen catches my eye. I find myself slowly turning to stare at the hauntingly familiar black against a white backdrop. And then the taunting image that rings a bell so loudly in my mind there's literally a ringing in my head. The man onscreen, whose name I can't read talks with an unfamiliar, a picture poised in the background between them. Suddenly, the image is overtaken by a winged heart and four very large letters flash across the screen in a cryptic font.

KIRA.

_Holy schist._


	3. One Step at a Time

_Well... I _meant_ to upload this half a week ago but got sidetracked... (It was six in the morning, so...)_ _But hey, better late than never, right? ^^'_

_**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- mind-vomit in the form of narration<em>

_DN does not = me_

* * *

><p><strong>One Step at a Time<strong>

_Holy schist._

I suddenly find myself laying flat on my back on the ground, searing pain shooting up my leg, but it doesn't seem to register.

_Kira... L... Japan..._ Thoughts are swirling madly around my brain. _All this time, I was just joking when I wished that life could be a little more like a fanfiction, but this... am I... am I really... am I really in a television show..?_

I try to find the screen again to confirm the insanity, but someone is standing in the way. I recognize the slender legs of my mother as she crouches down next to me- then begins yelling in my ear.

"Juliana! Juliana, oh, Julie!"

"The note... L... Japan..." I blabber, still trying to piece my thoughts together into a logical sentence. See, if life were a fanfiction- Oh, heck no! I'm not falling for that one again, Mr. Karma! Fortunately for me, my brain has a breakthrough and I spout out, "I'm fine, mom! I just spaced out for a moment!"

To prove my point, I clamber uneasily to my foot, my other hanging limp at my side. The pain is vivid now, and more excruciating than ever. I bite back a soft wail as I slowly balance all of my weight on my right foot. Let's hope my curse doesn't activate itself for a little while...

"We need to see a doctor," says Lilly in a worried tone.

A swift look around shows me that everyone seems to have gotten over their differences for the moment- but something's missing, or rather, someone.

"Where'd Jack go?" I ask, peering around.

Everyone then takes the time to spin in circles and look confused while I'm ready to pass out from a deluge of emotions, not to mention pain. Haven't I told you that twenty times over? Getting sick of me mentioning it? Good, you should be, but it _hurts!_

If my mother weren't here, I would have waved my hand around as said something really cocky, like, "Hello, my foot has swollen to the size of a basketball and needs medical attention _right now._ Care to be considerate and _help me?_"

Ugh, mothers...

What I really wanted to do-honestly-was scream at the top of my lungs, maybe even sing the Happy Song in my off-key voice. Who knows? Maybe that would help douse the chaos.

But I had to collapse one more time before I could get anywhere, right? You are correct.

* * *

><p>When I awoke, I instinctively knew I was in a hospital. Okay, you caught me; I'm <em>not<em> psychic. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the IV in my left arm.

And, as most of the "sane" public, I sit straight up with a sharp yelp of, "Hospital!"

Unlike a few of my friends, I do _not_ have a fear of needles- I have a fear of what's in them. Who the heck _knew_ what was being forced into my veins? Chloroplast? Hydrochloric acid? A large amount of_ rodenticide toxicity?_

On that lovely note, I blink, then take the precious time to read the label on the bag hanging from the IV stand.

Oh, it says something like 'hydration fluids.'

_Whew... I got a little worried there..._ I take a deep breath and glance around- just as people explode into my room (almost literally).

"Juliana!" Lilly is at my side before I can take a deep breath to steady myself. At first, I'm a little surprised that my mother isn't lying in a bed somewhere else in the hospital. Guess she checked out clean.

Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you something else about my mother. She thinks she has every disease on the planet: allergies, cancer, HIV. Heck, if it's a disease, and it has a name, my mother thinks she has it. There's a word for this. It's called a "hypochondriac." She also thinks that everyone else has every disease on the planet. There's a word for this, too: _paranoid_.

So I guess that changes her description to: overprotective, obsessive, control-freak, paranoid hypochondriac of a mother. Holy cow; that's a mouthful. It sort of reminds of one of those Mary Sue names I see in fanfics sometimes. Y'know, the completely ridiculous ones like "Raven Roxanne-Lunar McDarthy," whose nickname is five times longer than their real one. Sorry if that's your character's name. No true offense meant.

Sorry, I kinda rambled. Back to my current predicament...

"Hi mom, G, Eve," I say, nodding to each one in turn, then spot the doctor. "_Moshi moshi_, sir. When'll I be outta here?"

The Man in White looks up in surprise, as though one who mixes Japanese and English isn't something he comes across often. Who knows? Maybe I was a rare case. Tsk. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Ah, she have dislocated her ankle and suffer from minor concussion," he says in the traditional choppy Japanese accent. I internally wince at his horrible grammar, then remind myself that not all of the Japanese public are bilingual. Neither am I, so I guess I don't have the right to criticize. "She be able to leave less than one week!"

He then looks up, grinning, as thought proud of his English. I wonder if he had his notes from high school taped to the clipboard in his hands, but instead shoot him a thumbs up, hoping that it's universal.

Fortunately for me, it seems that is the case, for he returns the gesture with another grin.

"Thanks!" I say brightly. "You have good English, too!"

He seems to positively glow, then says, "You need anything, you press button on side of bed and we bring it!"

"Thanks!" I wave with my non-IV'ed hand as he leaves, then say to remaining crowd. "He was nice!"

"How do you feel, sweetie?" my mom asks as she leans over me, having left "personal space" behind at the doorway.

"Well... I'm not in pain anymore," I say, then realize that it's true. "But my vision seems to be a bit fuzzy... How long have I been out?"

"Only a few hours. It's almost eight o'clock now," replies G from where she was sitting in the windowsill in the corner.

I then take the time to give the room a proper once-over. Most who have never had the "joy" of visiting a hospital would assume that they're white, seeing as how that is how most would describe the inside of a room. In America, they are indeed white for the majority, but some are pastel colors.

But here in Japan, the walls are decorated with a dark shade of purple, with a hint of textural rises where they met the floor, which I can barely see past Lilly's knee. The floor is a dirty white color, stained with various colors, and a few tiles are a brighter white than the rest. The ceiling itself is a nice gray hue, dotted with the shadows of the popcorn texture you usually find in older American homes.

Random fact of the day: gray is the only hue, every other "color" is literally a color. Black is a color. White is a color. Red is a color, and so is blue and yellow. The last three colors are called "primary colors," while their offspring (purple, green and orange) and called secondary colors. White is a mixture of all colors, and black is a lack of the spectrum. Therefor, logically speaking, if you were to mix them together, you would get a muddled color similar to brownish-blue. But everyone knows that black and white make gray, therefor a simple-minded person's logic is very, very _wrong_. Joking! It just means the gray is not a color! Gray is a "color" that is impossible to form when using pure logic; therefor, society came up with a new name for gray: hue. (But we still tell young children that gray is a color, just so they don't get confused.)

Haphazardness aside, I liked the room in general. It was a nice break from my snow-white room (which my mother won't let me paint...).

"So..." I say, just to break the silence. "I'm stuck here for a _whole_ _week?_"

* * *

><p>And one week later, I explode through the doors of the hospital with a loud whoop. I'm not sure why the doctors wouldn't let me go for a whole week- I've dislocated my wrist before and was out in a few hours- so it must have been the concussion.<p>

Then again, Lilly may have bribed the receptionist.

And then I remember.

_Death Note! Oh my gosh, what would be happening right about now? Think! Think! Think, dammit, think! ...Crap! I'm drawing the World's Biggest Blank! Why now?_ I ignore the urge to bash my head against the random bench to my right, for fear that I may have to stay in the hospital another week. _Why? Why, of all times, does my memory have to fail me?_

Oh, yeah. Another thing I should clue you in about: I have a subconscious selective memory. 'What's that?' you ask. Good question. I'm not exactly positive, seeing as how Mom refused to let me be tested by a professional, so Eve introduced me to an aunt of hers, who was in training to become a psychologist. I told her that my mind has nine million holes in it, and I forget almost everything, except for a few random facts. You can set me up with the best French tutor in the world and the only thing I'll remember the next day is that the tutor was short and that the capital of Romania is Bucharest. No joke. But anyways, her aunt (I forgot her name) told me that I had a selective memory, triggered by a sudden change of emotion. She said that therefor, I was not schizophrenic, nor did I have DID- Dissociative Identity Disorder, also known as the Multiple Personality Disorder. (By the way, that's also what Evangeline has, as well as schizophrenia. As it turns out, DID tends to pair up with other disorders, and schizophrenia is the most common. I didn't know that schizophrenia and DID were two different things, and I was shocked to hear that schizophrenia actually deals with hallucinations more than it does a change in personality. DID is actually where you have two or more different personalities and your subconscious basically takes a nap while one of them takes over. Scary, right?)

Sorry, I'm rambling again. I'll make this short.

But anyways, she said that I was simply a mild case of the manic–depressive disorder. In other words, I was bipolar. Whoop-dee-doo!

Now, as I was saying...

_Ugh... Why why why why why why why can't I remember _this_, of all things?_ I mutter subconsciously. _Of all the times it could fail me, why_ now?

"Juliana!"

I turn at the sound of G's voice and see the brunette come running up to me, Eve at her side.

"What?" I ask curiously. _Did I upset a flowerpot with my crazed running or something?_

"Hey, you can kinda speak Japanese, right?" asks G, biting her lower lip.

I stare at them with a deadpan expression. "I know like, five words, and none of them would be any use, unless you want me to apologize to everyone we meet."

Eve groans. "In other words, we're _stuck_ in Japan..? Great. Just _great_..."

"...Stuck..?" G's eyes widen impossibly. "Stuck in... Japan...?"

I blink, wondering what's gotten her so worked up, and remember that she's dyslexic. These hieroglyphical thingies must be killing her brain right about now.

"Hey, chill, dude," I say, smiling and slapping G on the back. "It's not like we'll be here forever. Just a few months or so until I learn Japanese!"

"M...m...months..?"

"Hmm... scratch that. I'm not much of a genius... It'll be a year or so."

"A _year..?_" She looks ready to faint.

_Ah, crap. I'm not really the best at cheering up people..._

"But we'll probably find someone who can get us on an airplane, or something. Some of the Japanese public is bilingual, remember?" I say quickly, hoping my slip-up won't cost her her sanity.

"Girls."

I turn to see Lilly, internally wince, and say, "Um... hey, mom."

The three of us stand there stupidly for a moment before Lilly says in a strangled voice, "So... any of you three speak Japanese..?"

I almost facepalm.


	4. Mind Melding

_I. Am. SO. Sorry! D: I did NOT expect for it to take me this long to update, even with end-of-year exams. Also, it's freakishly short. Please forgive me!_

_**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- drama and adventure<br>- my computer's inability to draw dashes -_-  
>- a debatably excessive over-usage of swearing and fake swearing, and redundancy<em>

_I am sadly not the own of DN, nor any other anime hinted in this chapter. You could tell if I did. *evil grin*_

* * *

><p><strong>Mind Melding<strong>

This was stupid as all get-out. Wandering the streets of Japan unsupervised? In a foreign country whose language he supposedly didn't speak?

It was an outrage!

_Not-!_

He practically skips down the streets of Japan, fingering the rifle hidden under his black hoodie. Sudden power washes over him: he doesn't exist here. In other words...

He could do anything. He could be anyone. He was no longer Jack Daniels, kleptomaniac-and now a wanted murderer.

_I could be anyone..._ he purses his lips, savoring the idea, though the blood of his kill still stained the flavor, closely followed by a strong pang of regret. He had never meant to kill the old people, but the safety had been off, and he'd almost dropped the gun, and it happened to be pointed at the old man. The woman had screamed and died of fright when the granddaughter had exploded into the room in a wave of fury.

_At least, I_ think _it was fright... I'm a thief, not a killer._ He shakes his head. _I can't afford to think like that. It's n__o longer my problem. I could start a new life here. After all, it's not as though I could_ _cuss out the cops in English. Well, I _could_, but it wouldn't be as much fun._

A twisted grin curled his mouth and the memory of the heist-gone-wrong slowly began to fade from his mind. _Be anyone... do anything..._

* * *

><p><em>Aww, crap. Did it <em>have_ to be Death Note..?_ I sigh and rub my forehead vigorously. _At least in Fullmetal Alchemist I _might_ have had a chance to meet the characters _and_ live long enough to drag them off to safety... Here, I wouldn't get five feet before Light or Misa would kill me... That seriously sucks... Then again, at least it wasn't Wolf's Rain. Darcia would've kicked our butts into next week._

It had been going on like this for almost an hour, but my mind refused to give it up. Sure, it was cool being in an anime (I think), but there wasn't a high probability that we would walk away with all five limbs.

Actually, G, Eve, G's younger sister and I once had a conversation about something like this... Well, correction: it was which hot guy would give us the least painful death should we go to his world and tick him off... but it's the same thing, right? I think G said that Light was too gay to pass as hot, and L was just plain weird. Eve mistook L for a zombie and asked in complete honesty why G's sister thought a "dead dude" was hot. The topic kinda died after that.

_Ugh... Now I'm wishing that we'd talked about how to run for our lives rather than the best way to die... To be honest, dying doesn't sound really appealing right now..._ I groan and fall back onto the bed. It took almost a full hour to get this bed, so I sure as heck wasn't about to let it pass.

Why? you ask. Well, let's just say that after arguing for way to long, Lilly got really ticked off and started screaming at the receptionist of some random hotel we walked into until he gave us a room.

My mother can be very scary.

I lay flat on my back, eyes half closed as the glazed orbs stared off into nothing. _So after L and Light had their little public fiasco, then what happened..? There was something about two weeks... Wait. Didn't the killing pattern change, or was that later..? Or did something happen while we were in the hospital..? When exactly did people start talking about the L versus Kira thing on international television? Ah, schist. Of course, I have to be the only one here who's ever heard of Death Note, much less sat down and watched all of the episodes with wide, expectant eyes. I don't even have a proper time frame to go off of.  
><em>

I sit up with a roll of my eyes. _See, in _fanfic_ situations, the stupid shinigami would have appeared out of freaking nowhere and fixed all this crap. I can't speak Japanese, maps and blueprints have started a conspiracy against me, there are two psycho people out to kill everyone, my Goddamn _mother_ is here and I don't even know if there are dubbed episodes of Soul Eater so I can finish the freaking series! Gaaaaahh!_

Yeah... I kinda swear a lot. Mentally, I mean.

I shoot to my feet, unable to remain sitting any longer. I was never much of a pacer, so I revert to humming. After ten minutes of scrambling the lyrics to a few of my favorite Japanese songs, I find myself in the exact same condition I was in ten minutes before: laying flat on my back, swearing loudly in my mind.

I've never really been one to handle stress well.

Just as I'm about to throw myself headfirst out the nearest window, the door to the hotel room bursts in as Lilly lunges for me, anime waterfall tears flowing. I leap backwards to avoid her glomp (and earning a painful jab from the corner of the "kitchen" cabinet; that'll bruise for sure...) and stare at the nine thousand bags she had thrown on my bed.

_My_ bed. Not hers. (Eye twitch moment...)

G and Eve rush in behind her, each toting more freaking bags than I've ever seen in my life. And I'm sadly not exaggerating.

"What's all of this?" I ask in amazement as I stare at the mountain of bags on _my_ bed. "Did you guys _rob_ Wal-Mart, or did you start caterwauling at the manager until he 'lent' the crazy Americans twenty thousand bags that could fill up the already-nonexistent room in our hotel?"

Surprisingly, my mother is too preoccupied with arranging the bags "just so" on the bed to shoot me a "watch your tongue" look.

I turn to my friends, then idly wonder why there are only two beds.

_Oh... heck no! I'm _not_ sharing a bed with my crazy mom!_ I look around in horror- there _had_ to be a couch somewhere in the room- only for my gaze to land on an amazing sight.

"_Sofa!_" I squeal and dive headfirst onto it. "Oh, how much I love you, dearest couch! I could marry you!"

"Juliana, quit fooling around!" snaps Lilly as she whirls around, hands on her hips.

I twist the upper half of my body at an impossible angle to look at her; the middle of my spine cracks loudly in protest. "Sorry..." I mutter and but fall back down.

_Stupid mom... ruining my fun... We're going to freaking _die_. Can't she let me enjoy it while I can?_

* * *

><p>"It's four oh three and I can't sleep... Without you next to me I toss and turn like the sea..." I sing under my breath as I sit on the balcony, legs draw up so as to prop my notebook against it. My "wonderful" mother had acquired a wonderful idea from the aliens at Wal-Mart: get her writing-obsessed daughter a notebook. The problem? After tonight, my mother would never see this notebook again. "Wait. Or was it three o'three? Or five o'three? Or- ah, forget it..."<p>

I shake my bangs out of my face and take a moment to stare at my newest creation. Since I was a kid, I'd always had an affinity was drawing most mammals, the exception being humans. They had always come out looking like extra lumpy potatoes with facial expressions that looked like a drunk five-year-old had gotten ahold of a pencil. No joke. It was sad. Luckily for me, G and her sister introduced me to Fullmetal Alchemist and my fascination of the Japanese culture began. After many experiments (mostly failed), I found that the only way I could draw people was in the anime/manga style. That was roughly four years ago. It's safe to say I'm a little better now, but my singing is still pretty hazardous.

I close the notebook, hiding the picture from view. It's three in the morning, and I seriously can't sleep. I've already drawn four pictures, two of which kinda revolved around the same thing. (And no, I'm not going to tell you. Mwa ha ha ha!) I lean back against the cool concrete wall of the hotel and stretch my legs out in front of me. From where I'm sitting on the floor of the balcony, I have a pretty good view of the city.

On the bright side, I got ahold of a computer down in the hotel lobby and managed to check the date: December twenty-sixth, in the fabulous year 2003. Meaning that this is the day before Raye Penber is killed. On the bright side, it's still early on, so Light won't be _as_ inclined to kill me (I hope), but too far into the game to derail the full plot. Then again, I don't even know what the heck I want to do regarding the plot. Were I any other fangirl in the world, I might have been dreaming of this moment my whole life and know exactly what to do if I ended up in this situation at this exact time. Were I any other fangirl magically transported into Death Note, I can most certainly guarantee that my mother would not have decided to tag along.

I stare out at the night lights, and remembering the times I'd lived in a few of the bigger cities. My dad occasionally (correction: once in a blue moon) took me on his business trips that were closer to home, and even a few in Florida and Minnesota. I'd survived New York, Charlotte, Raleigh, Chicago and many others that I've lost track of. Let's just say that Bloomington and I are best buds as long as I remember my GPS.

But to be perfectly honest, I've always been more of a city gal- though I'd never admit it out loud. G would kill me and Eve would question my sanity. After living in a condo smack-dab in the heart of Charlotte for a couple of months (literally; it was located in the middle of Main Street), they'd always assumed that Rush Hour was enough to drive me back to our small "town" in Kentucky. (And yes, it _does_ need to be capitalized. If you've ever living in a big city, you would know that. I pity you. Been there, done that.) Out in the country, it took thirty minutes on the highway to get to the nearest convenience store, and even longer if you wanted to go shopping. (Wal-Mart was roughly forty-five minutes away; if you wanted any better than that it would take almost an hour and a half.) In the city, one could get anywhere they needed to go in a matter of minutes, should they leave their car behind. (Confession: when I lived with Dad in Charlotte, he'd often call in a request and send me to the store to grab a frozen dinner to whip up so that we could eat together when he got home. Mom was never told- and please don't tell her now- but at the time, I had a pair of skates that I would use to roam the streets. It took me twenty minutes total to run to a small family-owned shop just down the street and pick up the needed supplies, never longer. Yes it was dangerous, but police can only arrest you for carrying a concealed weapon if they catch you with one.)

I had almost missed the loud, rowdiness of city life. The danger, the sounds, the twisting maze-like alleyways that I always got lost in every time I ventured in...

_Maybe that's why I can't sleep. I'm finally home._

"Julie?"

I shoot a good foot straight up into the air. "Eve! You scared me! G?" I blink and watch as my friends slip out onto the balcony with me, close the door behind them quietly and sit on the floor next to me. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"You're not the only one who can't sleep," replies the brunette dryly as she leans against the glass sliding door. "These sirens are killing me."

"Oh," I say quietly, tucking the notebook into the back of my jeans. Unfortunately, G catches the movement with her hawk-like eyes.

"What's that?" she asks, nodding in its general direction.

"Eh, just a few doodles. It kinda resembles very, very, very dead-looking spaghetti and meatballs," I lie smoothly. It's not that I like lying to them, but it's easier to escape criticism.

Evangeline sits with her legs hanging under the rails, swinging. And then whirls around. "This is utter BS! Japan! I mean, really? Who the heck would send us to _Japan_, of all countries? Why not Ireland, or England? Or even Canada!"

_Ah, crap. Should I spill the beans or wait..?_

"Why not just leave us in Kentucky?" complains G. "I like America just fine, thank you."

"No kidding!" Eve whirls down around and shoves her legs under the railing again.

I sit quietly, not really wanting to attract attention to myself. In my years at public school, I've learned that the best way to avoid attention is to freeze. No, seriously. When teachers have to pick random people, they pick the ones that attract their attention. And humans are predators, so our eyes pick out movement better than stillness. Being slightly shorter than the average teenager also helps.

I sit silently and listen to my two best friends rant about the "person" who thought Japan would be lovely this time of year, mentally wincing.

_Hey, fanfictional shinigami?_ I call in my mind, feeling more than a little stupid. _You seem to pop up pretty often when other people need ya, so how 'bout making a quick stop here?_

I wait, but find the effort wasted. _Figures..._

"Juliana? Hey, earth to Juliana!"

I blink and look up. "Huh? What? Oh, sorry. Spaced."

G's concerned gaze runs me over. "That was a pretty heavy sigh for one so young. Have you something to share?"

_Oh, crap._ "Ah, no. Just... I'm trying to piece everything together, y'know? Trying to complete the puzzle. On one gear, we have us-" I motion at the three of us, plus my mom, "-and on another we have... Japan. And on another, there's Jack. And then we have three more gears, minimum. Person. Setting. Reason. We have our evidence- us- but why us, and why now..?"

"This is still crazy. And stupid," Eve shakes her head and stands. "Well, I think I'll try to hit the dirt, so to speak. Speaking of, Julie, you know a few Japanese words, right?"

"Not enough to make it worth mentioning..." I mumble gloomily.

"Well... I remember that you did a project in Spanish on the Japanese culture..."

I laugh. "Well he should have specified what non-American country he wanted me to do instead of just handed me the requirements!"

"But you mentioned places where tourists could go in case they got separated from their tour groups, didn't you?"

My heart skips a beat as light dawns on me. "OMKLDTK..." I breathe.

G blinks. "Uh, English, please. I don't speak texting."

_Tour groups..! That's it! Oh my gosh! I'm such an idiot!_

I facepalm, right there and then, giggling. My friends wait patiently for the mad laughter to subside as I burst out with, "I've got it!

"I've had an epiphany!"

"Uh... but didn't I just..?" Eve frowns.

"No! Not that!" I say excitedly. "I've had a Kid moment! The bottom half of the red pillar use to be part of the top half, which is on the other side of the room!"

G's mouth drops.

"Uh, great. But what does that have to do with anything?" Eve chuckles drily.

"It's just as I said! Everything connects!" I jerk my notebook out of my pants, flip it to a blank page and slap it down on the floor of the balcony, pencil in hand. Then I press the tip of the lead to the paper and begin to draw. I'm done a few minutes later, grinning.

"Guys, I've found our ticket home!" _And our ticket to safety!_


	5. WARNING: Prone to Spastic Tendencies

_Tada! See, guys? I HAVEN'T forgotten about this story! (Lies... All lies...) But the important thing is that I'm back. Also, I would like to say now that this is probably the second most ridiculous story I've ever written, and I'm quite proud of this fact. It makes for a nice break from all of my serious stories._

_**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- one gigantic pile of crazy<br>- the butchering of logic, history, literature, AND government  
>- further enunciation that this is fanfic in only half serious, half crack, and 100 percent lunacy<br>_

_I barely own the crazed products of my own mind, so what makes you think I'm halfway capable of owning Death Note? o.o_

* * *

><p><strong>WARNING: Prone to Spastic Tendencies<strong>

Six hours of sleep? Check. Lost in Japan? Check. Lost in Japan while lost in Death Note. _Check!_

Episode one, and what had Light been doing? Translations. And what did the teacher compliment him on? Translations? And what was Light also? Kira. And was he a main character?

Heck yeah!

The result: my awesome plan.

The main problem?

Getting my mother to approve it, because she couldn't just put her faith in her incredibly reliable daughter, because _God forbid_ should she take that the _wrong way_ and turn into a _recalcitrant teenager_. (Note the extreme sarcasm.)

"I did a report last year about Japan and in it, I mentioned places where tourists could go if they got separated from the group. We don't have a green card-" _I don't even know if Japan _has_ green cards..._ "-so they'll probably think we're tourists. We walk like a duck, we quack like a duck, and we act like a duck, so they'll probably think us a duck," I sigh.

"That's preposterous!" she screams, throwing her hands in the air. "This isn't a laughing situation, Juliana! We don't know why we're here, or even where 'here' is! For all we know, this could be Korea!"

_I'm not laughing, and Death Note takes place in Japan... I'm not _stupid_, "Mother."_

"We're going to find someone who knows what's going on, and we're just going to have to get over your selfish attitude!"

_That's a _great_ idea! Let someone _else_ call you crazy! And since when has this plan been driven by selfishness..?_ Selfishness_ would be ditching you guys, going to find the police station and hooking up with those guys, 'cause they're a heck of a lot cooler. But I'm not, now am I? I'm such a friggin' nice daughter..._

She storms around the room after that, throwing all her crap back together. When she catches me standing there, she turns and me and yells, "Start packing!"

"I never unpacked..." I sigh again. _I never had anything to unpack anyways..._

"Then help your friends! They've been through enough lately!" she snaps and disappears into the bathroom.

I take a deep breath and realize that my left hand has curled so tightly into a fist that I've cut the skin. I wipe the blossom of blood off onto my jean shorts and turn to my friends, who are sitting on the couch wearing near-identical looks of shock, though G's is more of pity and Eve's is slightly outraged.

"Is your mother usually like this?" Evangeline's voice is full of disgust as she eyes the bathroom door.

"Only every other day." I flop down on the floor near the couch and lean back against the wall, eyes half lidded.

"I'm so sorry," G choked out. "I've only seen her like this a few times before, but never this bad."

"Just wait 'til she thinks I'm lying," I mutter. "I strongly advise the two of you to run for your lives when it happens."

The silence lasts roughly ten seconds, then my mouth decides to break it. The silence, not the seconds.

"So... who wants to help me find a Japanese-English dictionary..?"

* * *

><p>I look around, bored out my mind as my "brilliant" mother attempts to break the language barrier without uttering a word of Japanese. Smart.<p>

We're currently in some shop where I think is downtown, but with all the people, it's hard to tell. But anyways, I'm standing near the freezer, eying the fish hanging from a wire halfway up. They look like tuna, but you never know. G and Eve are wandering around on the candy isle; I can see their heads sticking over the shelves.

I can feel my mind beginning to wander, literally. Half of my mind was focused on my crazed situation, the other half...

_Maybe this'll be like Ouran High School Host Club and the next thing I know, they'll be a bunch of rich kids running around, screaming and "fanboying" over Wal-Mart..._ I muse, then almost burst out laughing. _God, that really _would_ complete the insanity, wouldn't it?_

_Focus, moron!_

_Hey! Quoting Peanut isn't fair! _I'll_ quote __Cervantes__ at _you!_ Or maybe I'll just chuck this fish at your head!_

_You've never read Don Quiote and we share the same head..._

_...Shut your face._

They went something like that. Somewhat. I know arguing with yourself is normal, but what about your mind arguing while you sit in the back of your mind and eat popcorn?

See what happens when I get stressed? Fun. Even so, I guess I should have foreseen my mother's spazzing. I mean, how spastic could a person spaz when they were spaztastic? Wait, the word is spastic, isn't it? Then again, as a derived form of both 'fantastic' and 'spastic' then it would be... Yeah, it would be spaztastic.

I _love_ my advanced vocabulary. (And to think I was passing English...)

Wait.

_It was _summer_, right?_ I frown. _G, Eve and I were off on summer vacation... so why does it feel like spring? In spring, L and Light played tennis... right? But today's the day Raye dies... No, wait. That's tomorrow. It's still the twenty-sixth since I went to bed after midnight. But it's still December. But it wasn't cold last night. ...What?  
><em>

My haphazard mind giggles. I want to bash my head into something. Maybe the trout stand behind me would be good. Or was it tuna? Or maybe salmon...

_Isn't Japan a COMMUNIST country?!_ I scream mentally. (You can guess my World History grade. C'mon, I know you can do it!) I turn and slam my head against the fish stand anyways, but only to stagger backwards, having received a slap through the face by the mystery meat. I'm aware of the numerous stares aimed my way, mostly the ones that clearly read, "That girl escaped from an asylum."

_Great. Now the population's disregarded me as a raving lunatic. Or would that be a ranting lunatic..?_

I hate my inability to concentrate.

"Juliana, Evangeline, Gabriela, we're leaving!" the hypochondriac who labeled herself my mother calls irritably, storming out of the store. We exchange a look, I sigh, and the three of us reluctantly follow, me limping behind the others.

Once outside, the heat of midday threatens to melt my skin right off my bones, and I absentmindedly wish that Igneel had a daughter, or that Natsu Dragneel had a long-lost adoptive sister. That would just rock my world.

"Is it always this hot?" Eve mutters under her breath.

"No kidding," G adds.

_My thoughts exactly,_ amigas, I groan. _If only Gray Fullbuster in the flesh would appear and hug us for the rest of our stay. Oh, wait. This is Death Note. Well carp... there goes that plan._

"Listen, girls. I'm going to get directions to the nearest airport. We should be able to work from there. When I go in, I want you three to take a seat somewhere out of the way, okay?" Lilly fixes her raptor gaze upon us.

"Yes'sum," I mutter. G and Eve pipe up with their own replies.

After that, it takes my darling mother approximately five minutes to realize she has no idea where said airport would be. I take a deep breath.

_Don't pop a gasket, Jewel, _I ease. _It's not her fault. Picture yourself in her place and remember that you don't have kids._

"Thank Kira for small favors..." I mutter to myself.

"Kira?" Eve turns to me. "It's that the name of that supernatural murderer from that manga you read?"

Well, that's one way of putting it.

I open my mouth, readying myself and the world for whatever nonsense would undoubtedly explode from my lips, only to gasp dramatically. Speaking of Light, didn't somebody work alongside the police occasionally? And run errands for his family that involved going to the police station? And weren't the police qualified members of the community (and government) to help poor, lost American citizens find their way back home?

Letting out a shrill scream of excitement, I bolt after my mother and yell over my shoulder, "C'mon, guys! I have an idea!"

* * *

><p>Of course, no matter how amazing the idea, I may or may not have forgotten that while <em>am<em> I the most qualified person here to come up with a good plan, I am also the least qualified person to exact it. This is why, a whopping twenty-some odd minutes later, our little ragtag gang found itself hopelessly lost on the streets of Tokyo.

Naturally, this had _nothing _to do with the fact that I'm directionally challenged.

_Stupid brain. You had one job! Can't even remember where the Task Force Headquarters is located... _I grumble to myself.

"I thought you said that the police station would be somewhere around here," Lilly says, annoyance ringing clear in her best.

I guess Mulan and I have a lot in common. Neither of us can be the perfect daughter.

"I could have sworn it was this way..." I say, desperately turning this way and that. The buildings had been dreary-looking, right? All gray and dark? Or had that just been because in the scene with Naomi Misora and Light, it had been about to snow? "Maybe if we ask someone for directions-"

"In the Japanese we don't know?" my mother snaps. Suddenly, she massages her forehead with a hand and takes a deep breath. Turning to face us all, she says in a much quieter and gentler tone, "I'm sorry, girls. I'm just a little stressed right now."

_Just imagine how much more stressed she's be if she learned we're in Death Note. _I shudder.

"Excuse me." A light tap on my shoulder draws my gaze to the side. "You all look a little lost. Is there anything I can do for you?"

English. Actual, factual English.

MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER TONGUE!

Whirling around with a flourish, I make to fall to my knees and kiss this stranger's shoes for rescuing me from not only my equally bipolar mother, but from the Japanese culture itself. Only then do I freeze when I recognize a pair of a hazel eyes looking down at mine with a certain innocence I hadn't seen in them for quite some time. They aren't slitted with madness or the bloodlust I recalled so easily during the later episodes/chapters, nor do they so much as hint at any malevolence whatsoever. I also take in the casual sweep of brown hair, every strand perfectly placed yet messy at the same time. Add the tan blazer, matching dress pants, white shirt, and red tie, and I have on my hands the most perfect cosplayer in the history of the world.

That, or I've just met Light Yagami.


	6. Gabriela's Soap Box

_Hullo, again! Maybe if I keep up this once-a-week updating thing, it might start to set in. Then again, it takes sixty days to form a habit, so..._

_bored411: Your wish is my command~_

_Kouralia: Don't worry about it! I should probably find a way to clarify that, really... But it's the first one. The schizophrenia refers to her mental condition, but her interest in politics exists separately from that. Although, now I have a mental image of her hallucinating Barack Obama everywhere. XD_

_**Notes/Warning:**  
>- CANON CHARACTERS!<br>- the spectacular appearance of another narrator... :3  
>- simultaneous, inappropriate usage of slang, religion, and mythology<br>- Jewel and Jewel's narrations_

_Ay ain't got none 'a that ther' Death Note stuph._

* * *

><p><strong>Gabriela's Soap Box<strong>

In perhaps the most _awesome _turn of events, I, Juliana Cueva, have finally met one of my favorite characters in the history of me, myself, and I. ...But there's still a twenty percent chance I've lost my mind and are currently hallucinating all of this while locked up in some nut house. Either way, I am stoked.

So of course my mind would blank out at this very moment and leave me stranded.

"Uh... yes." Which is all I can spit out without the help of my gray matter.

Luckily for me—or unluckily, depending on how you look at it—my responsible mother springs into action and displaces her daughter from the spotlight. "Hi there! I'm Lillian Cueva, and these are my girls." G and Eve wave cautiously. "We seem to be a little turned around. Can you point us in the direction of the police station please?"

Light, the generous slaughterer that he is, points down the street and explains things to Lilly, all with a smile on his face.

It's then that I realize that it's not just because I'm meeting the protagonist of Death Note, or that I'm even meeting a character from the manga/anime in general. Light is _hot._ People can say all they want about anime characters looking cuter than real people; anime characters who _are _real people have looks that are easily five times better.

Now would be an appropriate time for me to blurt out a lame joke about not-so-fictional characters dripping good looks with gallons to spare. Sadly, my brain is still recovering from the assault.

No "supernatural murderer," as Eve so elegantly put it, should look like this. It's just not fair.

Don't get me wrong—I love the idea of a better world, free of dangerous criminals, where the pure-hearted can come and go as they please without fearing for theirs or anybody else's well-being. World peace is one of my favorite notions. However, I can get a little twitchy when it comes to the death sentence. Might the world be better off without them? Maybe. But still, the act of actually taking a life makes me a little queasy. (This being said, I kinda rooted for Light after he made Naomi Misora commit suicide, but I won't go into specifics. Long story short, there was the guy named Beyond Birthday who was thrown in prison because Naomi worked for L, so killing her kind of avenged BB. Then the guy died of some mysterious heart attack in prison which was neither confirmed nor denied by the authors if Kira killed him, because I don't believe the wiki timeline. Yes, my logic sucks. Sue me.) And after all was said and done, I still found myself torn between L and Light, because let's face it: both had their reasons, both of which were very good reasons. As I am hardly one without sin, it's not like I can cast that first stone.

By the time my scrambled mind manages to put together this somewhat logical train of thought, my mother has bid Light goodbye and the teenager in question turns the corner just as my mind resurfaces.

Ladies and gentlemen, Light Yagami has left the building.

_...CRAP!_

"Alright, girls! Good news!"

_With all due respect, mother dearest, the only good news you could possibly provide me with at this time is Light's home address, phone number, or current accessible location of the TARDIS._

Lilly then proceeds to take us all into her arms as some deranged form of a giant group hug before pulling us down the street, rambling about her newfound directions. Naturally, I ignore this in favor of glancing at the place where I had last seen Light, or at least the back of his head. But, seeing as Lady Luck really doesn't like me lately, I find myself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes. Or rather, a pair of slits that looked kinda blue-ish. A word to the wise? Eve's glare is really, really scary. Thank goodness I wasn't in need of a restroom beforehand.

"Can I help you?" I ask, feeling suspiciously naked and wondering if a jealous Senketsu secretly shredded my clothing. (If my assumption is correct, I will gladly bare Eve's smoldering eye sockets. Talking sentient sailor uniform made of life fibers? Yes, please!)

"I actually remembered to take my meds today, so you can't blame hallucinations," says the blonde in a surprisingly stern voice.

Instantly, I wonder if I am just naked period. "Can't blame what on hallucination?"

Her finger jabs the air where I had been trying to peek after Light. "Japan. Light. Explain. Now."

Why couldn't _I _be the one in our group with a freakishly good memory?

"Uh, Eve? What are you talking about?" I ask, hiding a nervous chuckle which had nothing to do with the fact that I was mentally debating if she would seriously consider flaying me alive.

G and Lilly walk ahead of us, each speaking to one another simultaneously in very low tones. Frankly, I have no idea how either one of them could hear (or understand) the other.

"Huh uh, Jewel. Don't think you can slip out of this one that easily." She discreetly grabs my hand under the guise of happy friendship and squeezes enough to let me know that she wouldn't mind crushing every bone if I so much as thought about lying. "We're in Japan, you completely freaked when we first got here, and now we've met some guy who looks a whole lot like that Kira person you bring up in every other conversation we have." Her eyes harden. "Spill."

"We're in Death Note."

The blank look on her face tells me that I probably should have handled the situation with a bit more finesse and less honesty. So I add, "You know, the manga? Or maybe the anime," only to watch the blonde's eyebrows furrow together to form a scrunched-up unibrow. Snorting loudly, I quickly mask the cause by blurting out, "Sounds crazy, right? That's what I thought too when I first saw the evidence but it's practically a mountain of proof by now. Plus, we just met Light, so..."

I can see the gears turning, slowly but surely. And also disbelievingly.

"Jack shoots up my grandparents and when we end up in Japan, you think we've magically been transported into a work of fiction?" Eve confirms with another terror-worthy glare.

I wince. "Well, when you say it like that-"

"When I say it like how? The _truth?_" She drops my hand like I just told her insanity was contagious. Giving me a disdainful look, Eve whirls around and stalks after the others.

My eyes trail after her, torn between begging her not to tell G and my mother and turning around and running after Light. On one hand—risking a yelling, grounding until I'm fifty, and an irate Evangeline. On the other—Kira. Stopping Eve from blurting out the truth much like I had before or possibly getting to witness the plot of Death Note firsthand. Going home or going to the Task Force. Back to the 'same old, same old' or executing one or more of my fantasies. Reality or nearly-real-enough-to-be-reality.

_I am such a doormat, _I whine to myself when logic finally crushes my inner fangirl.

Then, almost shocking me out of my slightly depressed stupor, my feet pivot on the sidewalk and I find myself charging after Light as quietly as possible. It takes me a moment to regain my will, but I don't bother to stop. My one chance to live in Death Note: why not make it last while it can?

_Well, if Kira doesn't kill me, my mother certainly will._

* * *

><p><strong>G's POV<strong>

I ain't gotta clue what J's told you, but don't believe her. That girl can't tell a story without a bottle of Ritalin. As for me, I like to think that I'm a decent writer. After all, I can stay on point, form complete sentences, _and_ avoid cliches like the plague. Just because I don't wear makeup and can barely spell doesn't mean that I would make a poor narrator.

This being said, I offer greetings and salutations. My name is long and complicated, so feel free to know me as G. I am the youngest of the group, having just turned seventeen, but due to her overall lack of maturity, Jewel is usually mistaken in my place. The two of us have been best friends since we were three, and when Eve came along in the sixth grade, we became a group completed. (For the record, most of these words have probably been spelled incorrectly, but I hopefully assume that Eve has taken the liberty of correcting these mistakes.)

Knowing her for years, it doesn't take me long to notice that something is off about my blonde buddy when she catches up to 'Nother-Mother and I. Hands clenched tightly, she stares straight ahead without acknowledging our rather interesting conversation about the streets' unique layout. I had just finished telling 'Nother-Mother about my aversion towards logophonetic writing systems and my inability to understand (or even begin to understand) any of the symbols. Lilly had agreed. Now, Eve continues to walk on my other side, silent.

Sighing softly, 'Nother-Mother addresses us both; "I'm just glad that we finally met someone who speaks English. Did anyone catch his name?"

Eve mumbles something under her breath and Lilly repeats herself. However, Eve doesn't answer right away. Her hesitation sets off a warning bell in my head, but I hold my tongue as she raises her voice loud enough to be heard.

"Jewel said he reminded her of some guy in her calculus class." One shoulder elevates slightly when she speaks—not a word of what she said is true.

"Really? Is that so, Juliana?" Lilly asks.

The only audible sound is that of our own footsteps.

We all glance over our shoulders. Then we glance again, but only because the gray and tan streets are clear of people.

Jewel is gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Jewel's POV<strong>

The reason _I _am the main narrator, G, is because I tell a story with _emotion_. Besides, I'm not a grammar prude. I slaughter my English proudly.

Once upon a time, a girl named Lucy Heartfilia could open the gate of the celestial heavens and summon the personification of a constellation resembling a compass. I would very much like that ability right about now.

So yes, in case you were wondering, I _am _lost. Very lost. I'm so lost I could be in Bermuda and it probably wouldn't make a difference.

_My life in a nutshell... _I grumble, shoving my hands in my pockets.

It didn't occur to me until _after _I abandoned the herd that they were heading in the direction of the police station and, maybe, a hotel where the workers understood English. Yep. I'm so smart.

Sinking onto a bench, I watch as cars race past along the monotonously-colored streets and try to avoid running over each other in their haste. The sun sinks lower in the sky, and only then do I begin to feel the air around me begin to nip at my skin. Maybe it _is _winter, and my hot-natured tendencies have kept up my ignorance until now.

_Stupid biology... No, wait, make that stupid Japan. How can it be blazing during the day and freezing at night? Normal weather isn't _that _drastic._

"Maybe an angry weather station decided to wrangle the skies and turn the clouds into their slaves," I mumble under my breath. "Really would be just my luck."

I heave myself to my feet and resume my quest. First thing is first: it's too late to try to turn around and find my group. Knowing my fabulous mother, my face will appear on tomorrow's milk carton, so I shouldn't have much to worry about. However, I _do _need a place to stay for the night. Problem: need a roof and have no cash. Solution: ...zilch.

"What I wouldn't give to be a genius."

_There you go, talking to yourself again. All of Japan is going to call you crazy if you keep it up._

_Technically speaking, _I argue, _I _am_ crazy. The slang term of crazy is-_

Before I can educate the little voice in the back of my head, my skull slams into a light pole and that pretty much ends my mental conversation.

"Ow..." I rub my head, pouting. "So the tally is now cold, lost, _and _in pain."

"Nice going, Grace."

I freeze. _DON'TPANICDON'TPANICDON'TPANIC! _Unfortunately, the little voice in the back of my mind doesn't make much of a difference. Male voice speaking English when I had been stalking Light not twenty minutes ago? My conclusion: Light Yagami is talking to me.

Light Yagami is talking to me.

To my relief, I don't faint, but slowly turn to face a boy around my age, a boy who is not Light, mind you. Dark hoodie with the hood pulled up, baggy jeans with the knees torn out, rugged tennis shoes older than the dinosaur my great-grandmother rode to school, blonde hair in desperate need of a trim, gray eyes currently checking me out from where he leans up against the door frame of a coffee shop, a steaming mug of coco [that I can smell from here] clasped in one hand. He raises the cardboard cup to his lips, and I finally recognize the gleam in his colorless eyes.

I slap my fingers together to form a makeshift cross and scream at the top of my lungs, "THE POWER OF CHRIST REPELS YOU, DEMON!" while scrambling backwards as fast as I can. Since I do _not _have eyes in the back of my head, I fail to notice the lack of sidewalk and tumble out into the road. A horn blares in my ears, but somehow the driver manages to swerve his blue hatchback around my splayed body. Sweating like a horse and cursing like a sailor, my eyes frantically search the area as I finish crossing the road during the lull.

Across the pavement, Jack sips his hot chocolate nonchalantly, as though he hadn't been about to witness my guts get splattered all over the road. "I think the power of Christ is suppose to _compel _demons," he says.

"Stay on the evil side of the River Styx, Cronus!" I bellow, unashamed of my less-than-awesome accidental attempt at a backflip. "Don't make me cry rape!"

This draws a frown across the teenager's face, which catches me off guard. Aren't cold-blooded killers suppose to laugh when the protagonist bluffs? It's in like, every great movie _ever_. The boss laugh is one of the few things the bad guys have going for them. That, and the cookies they use to bribe potential recruits.

_Clearly this klepto-creep failed Evil 101, _I thought smugly. _Darth Vader would be SO ashamed._

"'Cold, lost, and in pain.'" As he speaks, the street lamps flicker on, enabling me to see the lower half of his face when he stepped towards the road. His eyes twinkle unnaturally under the shadow of the hood, like a male version of Rachel Roth but a teensy more malevolent. (Then again, it's hard to channel more evil when you're the daughter of a demon and the granddaughter of succubus.) I find myself sliding backwards once again, this time dragging my feet in case I decide to walk off another three-inch ledge and fall to my doom. "Seems like you could use some help."

"Maybe, but not from you!" I declare loudly. "Every time you go to rob someone, somebody ends up dead. This somebody prefers the land of the living, thanks!"

Jack's face goes slack. "Since this doesn't seem to be able to get through any other way: I. Am. Not. Going. To. Kill. You."

I glower at him suspiciously. "What about robbing?"

"No."

"Raping?"

"No. Where did you even get that from?"

_Only every soap opera I've ever been forced to watch... _"Nowhere... Nevermind." I shake my head. "Look, why in the world would you want to help me?"

"Because," he pulls a wad of yen from the pocket of his hoodie, "we're going to help each other."

Cash. Honest to goodness dough. I could get a hotel room, and food, and a map, and then use the remainder to bribe people into telling me where I can find other characters in Death Note, mainly Light since I know he's been through here recently.

"...Hold up a sec," I drawl, eyes narrowed. "That doesn't quite answer my question, mister. What's in it for you?"

Jack shrugs. "Once I realized that a minor in a foreign country who doesn't speak the language will have a hard time getting around, I found you all again and watched without tipping you off to my presence. Between the five of us, you seem to be the only person with a general understanding of what's what. The deal is me giving you cash, you giving me tips."

_So he would be... buying my knowledge of Death Note, essentially. Well that's disturbing. You know, in a strangely futuristic kinda way. Like, 'I'll take her brain for a twenty,' and the guy on the right says-_

I turn off the voice in the back of my head as best I can so that I can stare at Jack across the road. Seeing as Eve managed to stand her ground against him during the spat from earlier, I'm tempted to peg him as less dangerous than previously believed, but Eve is a mastermind in martial arts whilst I have a bachelor's degree in klutz studies. I mean, for all I know, the guy could still be holding a grudge from where I sat on him.

But he has money. With money comes food, water, and shelter. And he has an uncontrollable impulse to steal things, so he could probably keep the bucks rolling.

_He could be your "provider" while you run around the Death Note world._

There goes my idea about keeping the voice quiet. Although... the other side of my brain has a point.

I take a very deep breath and motion Jack across the rode with a 'come hither' motion. He raises an eyebrow, but obliges. When he reaches me, I snatch his cup of coco, take a quick gulp of heaven, and thrust it back into his hands, ignoring the indignant expression on his face.

"Jack Daniels, if you kill me, rob me, or rape me, I'm going to sick my mother on you."

Because when a fangirl is stuck in one of her favorite plots while becoming co-dependent on a serial klepto-murderer, what could possibly go wrong?

* * *

><p><em>This chapter may or may not have been the product of me re-finding David Mitchell's Soapbox on YouTube. "Dear America..." XD The greatness of some things just cannot be expressed fully in words, but he does a pretty good job.<em>

_Also, the 'Nother Mother thing is something my friends and I do. Most of us have known each other for so long that when we "visit" each other's houses, we strut right inside and declare, "I'M HOME!" and call each other's parents Mom and Dad. After a certain incident [which shall remain unnamed], we adopted a tradition used by a mutual friend and began calling one another's parents 'Nother-Mother and 'N-Father. Seeing this in writing makes G sound like a hipster, which wasn't the original intention. -u-  
><em>


	7. Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat?

_Meh. A short, filler chapter, but completely necessary for future events. Sincerest apologies for the wait. I typed this up on the notepad of my electronic reader (which is _not_ made to write novels, mind you; only read them) when I rode in the back of a van for thirteen hours and then had to retype everything onto the computer because I missed the little button in the upper right corner where you can email it to yourself. So... yeah. Technology is not my thing. XD_

_shewhowasnamedanyway. bummer: Your wish is my command! _

_bored411: I almost answered your question here, and then I released that I'd be giving stuff away. XD I swear, sometimes I'm as scatter-brained as Jewel._

_NorthernMage__: __We hope. *gulp*_

_**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- rise of the multiple narrators<br>- Eve hates apostrophes, and dashes, and most other forms of punctuation  
>- biased perspectives on mental illnesses<br>- slightly insane American laws  
><em>

_Here's to me NOT owning Death Note._

* * *

><p><strong>Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat?<strong>

**Eve's POV**

How could Jewel be so reckless, running off like that? Was she _trying _to endanger herself? Or did this whole "Death Note" business get to her head, defile her sanity, and leave her venerable?

_No, that's just you. _The voice seems to float in on the breeze. Immediately, I inhale and fumble my backpack off of my shoulder. My psychiatrist told me that my condition was a side effect of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, not an excess of dopamine in my nervous system. In simpler terms, it is all in my head.

Dark sky. Yellow streetlamps. I pull the tiny jar of peanut butter and box of baby carrots from my bag and scoop out a large dollop with the vegetable. The nutty flavor seeps out across my taste buds. For whatever reason, peanut butter helps calm my nerves and, consequently, my schizophrenia. Normally, this would be a completely impossible cure, but I have been told that peanut butter, much like ginger, has a surprising amount of benevolent properties. Ginger, however, has actually been proven to increase the health and well-being of one. Peanut butter falls sadly behind. Once again, all in my head. Like a placebo. Fake. Either way, it helps.

The police station is surprisingly empty when we finally reach it. Mrs. Cueva veers towards the front desk. G and I take a seat in plush chairs by the door. We remain quiet as the loud voice of the woman soon reaches us. Apparently, the only officer in the whole building is the one running the front desk. He sits with wide eyes as Mrs. Cueva speaks in very slow English.

"My daughter is missing and I need someone to find her _now!_"

Even if the poor man speaks the same language, I doubt he would know to tell her whether or not the forty-eight hour law still applies in Japan. Dark hair and eyes. Smart uniform. Hesitant smile. He might be cute. Or funny. I feel like I should know about things like this. Just because I am a teenage girl does not mean that I can relate to the stereotype. Especially the blonde jokes.

Japan. We are in Japan.

I glance over at G, who slumps in the chair as though she is trying to make herself smaller and hide. If I had to tell anyone the truth, it would be Jewel, but that is not an option for obvious reasons. Mrs. Cueva should be the next optimal choice, but of the few times I have seen the mother of Jewel lose it, I know that I am not really keen on unleashing that wrath anytime soon. Besides, if I tell Mrs. Cueva, then she might expect me to know a thing or two about Death Note and demand an explanation I cannot give. I do not know where Jewel ran off to. I do not know which city we are in. I do not even have proof that we are in Japan, Death Note, or any variety of the above. All I _do _know is that Jewel is not with us, Jack is still on the loose, and my hormone levels are fluctuating. Again.

But I _do _suspect that Jewel ran after that man we bumped into. Light, I believe? Kira. A fictional character. As an author, I can understand the allure, but who in their right mind would go chasing off after a man they _know _murders people? It is not even something I would consider. And I have done some fairly stupid things over the course of my life. Ergo, the root of our problems. If only I were a little less impulsive, there is a very good chance that we would not even be in this situation.

G sucks in a breath like she is trying to steal all of the oxygen from the atmosphere in one go. The anxiety on her face is as obvious as a neon sign. I bump my elbow against hers.

"Of all the times Jewel has gotten lost over the years, has she ever once landed herself in a dangerous situation she couldn't weasel out of?" I ask, forcing a smile we both know is fake.

"Are we counting the time we all took a tour of Virginia Commonwealth University and she punched an escaping criminal in the face outside of the magistrate's office?"

Now both of our smiles are real. Jewel argued that when one goes to the police in the hopes that they might have a payphone, a "cuffed madman" should avoid charging her until she secures her location or finds her cell phone. The mother of G, with whom we were traveling at the time, seemed far too amused by this. G and I were not. Long story short, none of us were considering attending a university in downtown Richmond in a state where the speed limit is "enforced by aircraft."

"Can you direct me to someone who speaks English?" Mrs. Cueva says with the same booming volume.

As the man blanches drastically, I wonder if Jewel is okay.

* * *

><p><strong>Jewel's POV<strong>

Roughly an hour after we made our little agreement, Jack and I find ourselves residents in a very nice apartment complex. Well, to be correct, _I _find myself a very surprised co-owner of an apartment. I don't even want to know how Jack did it. For all I know, he's part Hypnobrai and hypnotized the dude at the front desk into thinking we're his masters.

_You're being unreasonable again. He probably just flaunted a wad of cash and a big smile, _says the little voice in the back of my head.

Sometimes, I really hate it when I'm right.

The apartment is more like a flat (or a suite-style dorm room) and is located in the back corner of a multistory complex. The foyer triples as a common room and kitchen, opening up to faded red paint and threadbare carpet. Two couches, tie-dyed purple against white, sit on opposite sides of the room with a small coffee table in between them. A large window filters moonlight through lacy drapes over a stand where a television might sit. In an indention along the left wall, the stainless steel kitchen appliances hunker, its left and right corners framed by two wooden doors coated in thick layers of stain. One quick exploration rewards me with two bedrooms connected by a Jack-and-Jill bathroom. (Hah hah. Irony.) Both beds and bath have some sort of Valentine's theme to it—red, pink, white, with bits of violet—but by this point, I'm too tired to care. If I don't get some shut-eye, I'm going to-

* * *

><p>The bed spring pops me square in the back and I jolt awake. <em>What the..? <em>There's a funny pain in my head that reminds me of the time I cut a cartwheel off of my bike and ended up in the hospital with a concussion. _And_ the blankets are trying to strangle me. By the time I battle back the covers with overly-enthusiastic declaration of triumph, I recognize the excess windows of the bedroom to the right.

_I went to sleep? I don't remember ever deciding to go to bed. And why did I, the non-morning person, chose the extremely bright room?_

Grunting, I drop my feet to the floor and straighten out yesterday's clothes. My shoes scrape through the off-white carpet with a muted rustle as I trudge out into the common room. Jack scares the poop out of me when I round the corner to find him standing _right there_. Like a boss, he ignores my yelp and uncoordinated swing in his general direction. I do, however, notice the stylish hoodie he adorns. And the Danish in his hand.

"Fooooooood..." I intone shamelessly.

He stares at me like I've grown a second head. "What's the plan today?" he asks listlessly, taking a savory chomp.

It takes me a minute to kick-start my brain into gear and keep myself from drooling. After all, no matter how much I'd love to snatch the pastry and gobble it down, I generally need to keep on this guy's good side.

"Ah... well..." I scratch the back of my head. "I'll need to check the date before I make any serious decisions. I don't exactly want to throw off the timeline so badly that we can't keep up."

I want to add that no matter what we do, we need to decide whether or not regrouping with Mom, G, and Eve is a priority, but my inner fangirl smothers the logic from my forethoughts. I chose Light, fiction, Death Note. There are some choices that just can't be taken back.

Only when I notice that Jack hasn't replied do I give him my full attention. Both sleeves of the hoodie is pulled up to reveal two very fancy looking watches, one on each wrist. It isn't until I read the tiny 'AUDEMARS' inscription in the inside of the rim that my mouth drops.

Jack is wearing million-dollar watches. Two of them.

"Does the brown one make my arm look buff?" he wonders aloud.

I punch him square in the shoulder without even thinking about it. This does about as much damage as poking him with a toothpick. Jack shoots me a mildly annoyed look.

"Where did you get those?" I hiss.

"The Westin Miyako is just down the street and there's this group of rich kids staying there for winter break-"

"Is the hoodie theirs too?"

"Duh."

I release a cry of pure frustration. "Jack! Did it ever occur to you that stealing from people in the hotel _next door_ might make us possible suspects?! We're a couple of teenagers who just bought an _apartment!_ You can't go out in public wearing any of that!"

He has the decency to look sheepish. "...Whoops?"

Clearly, Jack Daniels is no L.

* * *

><p><strong>Jack's POV<strong>

I am proud to say that I have never been stripped by a woman in my entire life... until today.

_December twenty-seventh, 2003—Grace is a few fries short of a happy meal._

I was forced to wear my old hoodie and leave my rifle—which made Grace scream as soon as she saw it—at the apartment with the watches. Then we spent the day shopping around for new clothes, more food than anyone should be physically capable of carrying, and cosplay outfits.

"It's for disguises," she had told him earnestly, "in case we run into my mom."

If any female can explain to me how disguises equal cosplay, speak now.

Currently, I slump over a low stone wall, sipping soda from a cup larger than my head, and eyeing the potential victims ambling past. I mean, these people just have so much stuff hanging all over them. It's not like they could possibly have a good use for it.

I'm also bored. I thought that getting to run around Japan unsupervised would be fun. Be anyone, do anything, pretend you're a badass—but no. Instead, I'm stuck babysitting Grace, who I'm pretty sure is only physically older than me. I can also claim to have never met a human being as clueless, clumsy, or straightforward as Grace... until I met her.

Sighing loudly draws Grace's eyes for a split second before they return to the newspaper. I know she isn't reading—her eyes remain fixed on a single point on the page—but the deep lines of concentration etched across her face tell me all I need to know.

"If memory serves me correctly," Grace says after a while, "this is the day Raye Penber and those other FBI agents get killed by Kira." She pauses her train of thought long enough to bring me up to date on this. Frankly, I don't know what to think. "In other words, we're in the manga, it's still December, Light's still in high school... or whatever system Japan uses, and L is still a faceless detective hopping hotels."

"Does any of this actually help us _leave _Death Note?" I ask, somewhat sourly. I don't like the idea of a justice-driven detective hunting me down for swiping a few spare belongings here and there if my name just so happens to come up in casual conversation.

Her expression contorts into one of disbelief. "We can't leave until we learn why we're here in the first place. Have you never read fanfiction?"

Fanfiction? Isn't that those wannabe-stories written by obsessive loons who have nothing better to do with their time?

At my blank look, she adds, "It's like every horror film ever written. You don't check out odd noises during the night, no matter what they sound like or what your spouse tells you. You don't split up. You don't arm yourself with a flashlight and say 'Good enough.' You don't leave weapons or kitchenware laying out in plain sight. You don't trust the man whose character introduction starts with an excuse. You also don't trust the man with the creeper van who offers candy to small children. And in self-insert fanfictions, you have to figure out why you're in some fictional world because the answer could be a life saver. Literally." She frowns. "But in really bad fanfiction, it's usually some lame thing like an alternate reality, teleportation, fiction-is-real, or a bunch of other nonsense."

_December twenty-seventh, 2003—Grace is an entire order of fries short of a happy meal._

* * *

><p><strong>G's POV<strong>

When I wake up, the first thing that hits me is Eve's elbow. The next thing that hits me is her fist. The last thing that hits me is that Jewel is missing.

I hit back.

Eve lets out a faint grunt and rolls over, mumbling something incoherent in her sleep. My eyes fall on the digital clock that tells me I've slept in.

Jewel has been missing for almost eleven hours.

'Nother-Mother slumps at the foot of her bed, legs hanging off the end, elbows propped on her knees, face cradled in her hands. In that moment, I hate Jewel for putting even more stress on her mother; it's not like she deserves it.

The hotel reeks of something that suspiciously reminds me of this one time at band camp—_ahem_. I offer my sincerest apologies. Just picture a really foul scent that reminds you of something illegal, and try to ignore the fact that it is nearly impossible to "picture" a smell.

I slither out from under the covers and make my way across the cold tiles to 'Nother-Mother's bedside. When I sink on the mattress next to her, 'Nother-Mother slowly raises her head and offers a gentle smile.

"How are you holding up?"

I shrug. "I'm okay, but I'm more worried about you."

'Nother-Mother laughs quietly. "To tell you the truth, I would feel a lot better if-" She cuts herself off, teeth running over he bottom lip. It's almost as if she wants to tell me something, but is restraining herself because she doesn't want to admit that she doesn't know what to do, or that she isn't a suitable guardian in this situation.

If I were a mother who had awoken in a foreign country less than two weeks ago and had recently lost track of my daughter, I wouldn't be feeling too hot either.

"It's Jewel. She's not the most coordinated of people, but she's not stupid," I say quietly. "We'll find her."

That gentle smile transforms. Although it remains the same size, there's a certain lightness to it now, as though my words have reminded her of some great comfort, and a second later, I find her hand rubbing the top of my head.

"Of course we will." 'Nother-Mother purses her lips.

* * *

><p><em>Hooray! Almost all of the characters have their own POVs now. I am one step closer to ruling the wor-I mean, uh... progressing in the plot!<br>_


	8. Plan? What Plan?

_Guess who's updating on their birthday? :3 Long story short, copious mounds of sushi are calling my name..._

_Anonguest: Thanks! ^^ Your support means a lot to me._

_DragonBookAddict: Shh! 'Tis a secret! ;) ...Or it may come up later.  
><em>

_NorthernMage: You literally took the words right out of my mouth. Are you secretly telepathic?_

_**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- Fullmetal Alchemist character somewhat-cameo<br>- Jewel  
>- HEAD FOR THE HILLS; Lillian gets her own POV<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Plan? What Plan?<strong>

Lillian is going to get her daughter back if it is the last thing she does.

While Gabriela wages war against the hotel's coffee pot, the forty-two-year-old pulls out her phone and does the most logical thing she can think of at the moment: she calls Juliana's cell phone. Just like the previous twenty-nine times, it goes straight to voice mail, meaning one of three things: Juliana has lost her phone, turned it off, or let it die. Again. Sometimes, Lillian wonders why she even bothered to get her daughter a cellular device. For once, she would love for her daughter to be like other teenagers—thoroughly obsessed with technology. As it is, Lillian doesn't even know if Juliana would be capable of operating Facebook if she let her get a social media account.

_What if this is her way of getting back at me for keeping such a strict eye on her all of these years, _she thinks, only to feel annoyance bubble up, barely masking an underlying rage. _If that's the case, I'll ground her until she's thirty._

Evangeline awakens with a noise akin to a growl. The third child in her care sits up with a great sigh and rubs sleep from her eyes. She hops up and meanders her way over to Lillian and Gabriela, eyeing the coffee pot with a curling lip. Huffing impatiently, the girl crosses her arms, but shoots Lillian a sleepy smile.

"Morning, Mrs. Cueva."

"Good morning, Evangeline." Lillian returns the smile.

Evangeline's sleep habits don't match up with those of a morning person or a nighthawk, but it _does _take her awhile to become fully conscious; Lillian patiently waits for as long as she can before bursting out;

"We're going back to that police station again. The officer on duty might not be so incompetent this time."

The teenagers exchange a tired look—a tired look filled with worry, hope, and anxiety, all rolled together in a nearly indistinguishable bundle. Lillian understands how they feel. As much as she hates to admit it, she doesn't know what to do. She can't even begin to conceive how any of this happened, or how to correct it. She doesn't speak the native language, she doesn't know her way around, and she certainly can't be expected to magically procure her daughter from thin air without help from the authorities. The thought terrifies her—Juliana, alone in a foreign country—and clouds her judgment. Lillian wants to protect Gabriela and Evangeline, and she wants to find Juliana, and she wants to go back to America, and-

"What if Japan _does _have the forty-eight hour law?" asks Evangeline quietly.

Lillian's mouth dries considerably. It's not a question she wants to consider right now.

"Then we'll make them see to reason," she replies stubbornly.

Reason. Where's the reason in overnight teleportation? Or time travel?

As much as she stresses over losing Juliana and keeping the other girls intact, Lillian fears the moment when she can no longer protect them from the truth: that today is not a summer day in the year 2012. It's December. 2003. The past. Fear ravages the remainder of her logic and sends shivers down her spine just when she's almost forgotten. Luckily, Evangeline and Gabriela haven't learned of this yet. Lillian can protect them for a while longer, though she knows it can't last. They will find out, and when they do, she prays to God that they won't hate her for trying to hide the truth.

They're just kids. They're just girls.

For their sake, Lillian has to keep her wits about her, even if it means losing her mind in the process.

* * *

><p><strong>Jewel's POV<strong>

We drop off the bags at the apartment before going back out for another shopping spree. Sometimes, I think Jack really just wants to kill me and be done with it, but luckily for me, myself, and I, my beautiful brain is pretty much all that's keeping me alive. Our co-dependence.

Bleh. I didn't even want a symbiotic relationship, thanks.

"So, Kira is this supernatural killer who goes after criminals, and L is some hot-shot detective, and then there's the police... Why aren't these people just joining up and hunting down these guys together?" Jack asks, honestly puzzled.

I run my hands down my face and try to ignore the fact that _only in fanfiction _would that ever happen. "The police catch the criminals, so does L. Kira _kills _them. Dead. It's a moral thing. Basically, the justice system rules supreme, so if they declare the death sentence, then that's that to L and the police, but Kira kills based off of who _he _thinks deserves to die. Righteous judgment, and all that jazz. Plus, L believes that no one man should have all that power, which is later confirmed when Light loses his ever-loving mind and kinda goes power-crazy in later chapters."

"Hold on... Light? I get the reason for the 'L' thing, but who in the world would honestly name their kid Light?"

"I think his original name in the Japanese sub was Raito."

"Raito it is."

"Raito directly translates to Light."

Jack shoots me the bird. I smirk. _Like a boss-!_

"If you're so knowledgeable about this world, then how does he kill?"

I stop walking right in the middle of the sidewalk. Some lady talking on her phone almost runs me over. I ignore her in favor of dramatically beckoning Jack closer. He rolls his eyes and leans in so that I can whisper into his ear, "A notebook of death."

He stares. Blinks. And bursts out laughing.

...Huh. That was... not what I had been expecting.

"A notebook of _death?_" he howls, earning a solid punch to the gut from yours truly (which does diddly squat, mind you). Rubbing my sore knuckles and wondering why Jack has abs of steel, I decide it best to wait out his severe case of the giggles. "What kind of person-? How could you even-? When does that ever-?" All coherent sentence structure is lost amongst the laughter.

"Keep it down!" I say, for all it's worth. "This is some scary stuff we're talking about! For all we know, you could be next!"

This certainly shuts him up.

"_What?_"

"Well, let's see, genius: you're a thief _and _a murderer _and_ you have an unregistered firearm in a country that might not even let its citizens carry shooty weapons in the first place _and _you more of less caused all of us to become illegal immigrants in this country _and _you're kind of holding me hostage _and _you're guilty of identity theft for however you got us that apartment."

My awesome idea to put my hands on my hips and strike a Wonder Woman pose was sorely interrupted by Jack slapping a hand over my mouth and whispering frantically, "Now _you_ keep it down! I thought Kira only went after really bad criminals!"

"_Murderer_," I say pointedly, poking the boy between the eyes. "Besides, I was only teasing about Light's name. I'm pretty sure it means moon, or something along those lines. I know his name is the kanji for moon but is read as Raito, but past that, it's anyone's guess."

"Tell me that wasn't the only thing you were joking about," he says seriously.

"Well, if Kira kills you, I'll have to actually attempt to find my mother instead of just letting it happen." I offer a large smile. "I don't want to do that without catching a glimpse of L."

Jack stares blankly for a few moments. "This obsession of yours is going to get us both killed, isn't it?"

* * *

><p>Another day gone, and Lillian is no closer to finding her daughter. She wants to mope, cry, or do something less productive that will prove far more effective than the massive amount of panicking she's been doing as of late. Gabriela seems more at ease—learning a bit more about Japanese culture every day—but Evangeline became generally unresponsive after the group was forced to leave the police department empty-handed. Lillian fears that they may never find Juliana, but she knows she's just being paranoid. She's a strong woman. She can do this.<p>

Taking a seat on the foot of the hotel bed, Lillian casts a concerned look towards Evangeline. The girl slumps against a mountain of pillows, lounged back against the head of the bed, up to her chin in covers. Today was far colder than days previous, and clouds hang outside the window. The golden sunset might be beautiful any other day, but for now, the clouds add a touch of darkness that Lillian could frankly do without.

"Evangeline, how are you feeling?" she asks, as calmly a she can manage.

For a long time, the only sound to be heard is that of running water in the bathroom.

"I want to go home."

Lillian braces herself for the conversation to come. "I know, sweetie. I'm working on it, but we can't go home without Juliana."

"Jewel knows this place. We won't find her if she doesn't want to be found."

Shock and outrage cleave Lillian into two warring versions of herself. Naturally, the more aggressive one wins.

"What do you mean by that?" It comes out more harshly than intended.

The girl suddenly winces, as though she's said the wrong thing, and she shrinks under the covers until only her eyes and forehead stick out.

"My daughter has never left the country, much less the continent. There's no way she could possibly know her way around. Juliana can barely find her way out of a paper bag!" Her volume swells with each word until she's screaming. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lillian tells herself that this isn't the best parenting technique for the current situation, but her anger is hard to diffuse. "Evangeline, tell me what you meant!"

She mumbles something incoherent and temporarily looks as though she may cry. Instantly, the more gentle half of Lillian takes over.

"I'm sorry, Evie. I don't mean to seem hostile," Lillian says in a quieter voice. "You can tell me anything you know, anything that might seem important. I'd give anything to get Juliana back and take you girls home, but... I need us all to be able to trust each other."

_And keep our heads. _But she doesn't say that part aloud.

"We're in Death Note!" Evangeline bursts out, throwing the covers aside.

"...I beg your pardon?"

* * *

><p><strong>Jewel's POV<strong>

"Where the heck are we?" Jack asks.

"Residential area," I reply with a casual shrug.

Where are we really? Three words: Light freaking Yagami.

...Okay, so maybe not, but I'm trying to be dramatic, here! Honestly, I had dragged Jack out into the middle of nowhere, trying to find Light's house. Stalker-ish? Yes. Fangirl much? Yes. Excited as all get-out so is generally uncaring how this looks to anybody else? _Definitely_.

"What are we looking for?"

"A house," I say.

"What kind of house?"

"A very special one."

"By any chance, would any of the characters happen to live in this house?"

"Maybe."

"Are you going to answer any of my questions?"

"I am a fortune cookie; my answers are riddles that must be solved or a curious mind does not deserve the truth." I pride myself on remembering useless movie lines at the least relevant times.

Jack grabs the sleeve of my jacket and tugs me to a halt, an annoyed look plastered on his countenance. "Seriously, Grace. What are we doing?"

"Meeting characters so I don't feel that bad when we have to leave." I stubbornly wrench myself from his grasp and readjust my jacket.

"You _are _going to get us killed! Who are we going to see? L? Light? That police chief person?"

His next question is cut off when I slap a hand over his mouth and yank him closer to me. "Are you _insane?_" I hiss. "Rule of thumb: don't talk about Death Note when we're _in _Death Note. Got it? How crazy do you want us to sound?"

"I'm being dragged around in a foreign country on some long-distance continent in a fictional comic book I've never even heard of by some psycho fangirl drowning in denial and a death wish. Do you really want me to answer that?"

I sigh loudly but don't release him.

"It's December twenty-eighth, the day after the FBI agents are killed. This means that Naomi Misora is working up the courage to investigate the death of her own husband, L is also pondering the deaths, and Light's trying to figure out if there are any loose ends he forgot to tie up. In other words, the Task Force meets L on New Years Eve and Light and Naomi have their little throw-down the day after. If I want to stay alive in Death Note long enough to figure out what's happening, I have to get in close to somebody. My best bet is Sayu, Light's little sister. She's kind, compassionate, and it's still early enough that Light shouldn't consider killing someone who isn't an immediate threat. Basically, I befriend Sayu, introduce you as my unfortunate and unruly cousin-in-law, and the two of us live long enough to actually do stuff. We find my mother, hope she doesn't scare the piss out of the Yagami family, and pray to every deity in existence that she doesn't flay me on sight to begin with. Any questions, princess?"

Jack glowers down at me with a terrifying expression that can only be described as his attempt to channel General Olivier Armstrong. Seriously. The sight almost makes me pee myself. He opens his mouth, baring pearly fangs of death, and I absentmindedly note someone screaming.

Wait... That someone is me.

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I was just trying to save our lives! Don't rape me, please! I'm too young to die of such a humiliating death! I DON'T WANNA DIE!_"

God, I'm such a pansy.

My codependent has the nerve to snicker at my pitiful self. "Grace, I'm not going to rape you. Cut it out." I whimper, and suddenly remember that _I'm_ the one clinging to him like a deranged chimpanzee. Flushing and trembling, I recoil and quickly shove my hands in my pockets. "How about this: you take a chill pill while I grab some coffee, then we'll find this Sayu person together, okay?"

"'Kay."

Pansy _and _doormat. I should have never called him princess. Today is not my day.

And then Jack wanders back in the direction we came from, whistling some merry tune under his breath that's way too cheerful for what just went down.

"The men in white lab coats are not your friends. The men in white lab coats are not your friends," I mutter repetitively to myself, turning and continuing along the current street. However, before I can make it to the end of the block, a figure rounds the corner, sliding out of a tree's shadow and into full view. In that moment, I forget my own name.

Nobody can be this lucky. Stuff like this doesn't get to happen in real life. If I didn't know that I was in a work of fiction before, I definitely do now.

Light Yagami takes long strides towards me, a deep frown etched on his face. Blazer open, tie fluttering in the wind, perfect hair casually swept back—it's not hard to picture his face plastered on the front of some international modeling magazine. Because, in all seriousness, I must have POed some higher-up in a past life to have luck this wayward.

"Hello again!" I say as cheerfully as I can manage.

"Are you alright?" he asks, glancing around.

_Oh, yes. The friendly persona. Ryuk mentioned you in the manga... or he thought about it, at least. Hold up—does this mean that Light heard me scream from who-knows-how-many blocks over? Fudge a duck! Quick, brain, gimmie an intelligent response!_

"A numskull jumped out of the bushes and scared me half to death." I waive my hand generally behind me. "Some friend. I told the idiot to take a hike until there wasn't any danger of being punched in the face."

Light blinks slowly. I hide my giggle with a harsh cough as I picture a little thought bubble appearing above his head. It makes me wonder if he's thinking along the lines of 'what the heck?' or 'Kira says no,' or somewhere in between, like in Ouran HS Host Club.

Then a smile brightens the boy's face as his brilliance shows through. "Sounds like you need new friends."

"New friends, a map, and some hot chocolate. It's freezing out." I offer him a grin and motion him onwards. Taking the hint, we continue along the sidewalk, side by side. "So what are you doing, wandering the neighborhood at dusk?"

"I like to walk home from school. My study group stays late, so I like the peace and quiet."

_I feel like I should be offended, or possibly worried. Is he trying to get at something here?_

"Sorry if I spoiled that. I'll be sure to give my 'friend' a hard time, just for you," I promise with a chuckle.

Light laughs. "I wouldn't go that far." Stooping his head politely, he adds, "I'm Light Yagami."

_OHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT-! _"I'm Julia Cueva, but you can call me Jewel," I hear myself say, and immediately congratulate my brain on quick thinking. Now I have an excuse to go by Jewel _and _he doesn't have my full name, so he shouldn't be able to kill me without horribly misspelling my name or learning its full value from somebody else. (Note to self: never tell Jack my full, real name.)

"Oh, did you get to the police station okay?" he asks after I straight up from my formal bow.

"Mom sent us back to the apartment while she went. Something about legality and age."

He frowns again. "That was yesterday."

I mentally swear. "Yeah, we're worried too. Splitting up isn't a great idea, but I just thought that if I could walk around for a while..." I trail off, hoping that the genius before me would be able to fill in the blanks I was offering.

"You thought you could find her."

It shouldn't be this easy. Every self-insert I've ever read portrayed speaking to Light as some sort of hugely stressful event, second only to meeting L himself. But this seems... almost natural.

_Dammit, Jewel, don't you dare go falling for his tricks! Remember that this is just a face he puts on to get people to let their guard down—and it's working!_

"Some great detective I'll make..." I mumble, just loud enough to be audible. Light's eyes fix themselves to me, and I feel panic begin to set in. "Don't mind me. I'm a little put out, to be honest. Things haven't been going great lately and I think I've gotten myself lost again. You wouldn't mind pointing me the right way a second time, would you?" I ask weakly.

It's really hard not to be disarmed by that warm smile, but visualizing the look on Light's face when he admits to being Kira in the Yellow Box warehouse is enough to help me control my inner fangirl. He requests my residency address and I describe the place as "that dinky apartment complex diagonally across the road from the Westin Miyako," which weasels another chuckle out of him. Not two minutes later, Light has sketched out a rough map on the back of his physics notes that makes far more sense than it should. I memorize the doodle to the best of my abilities before a thought strikes me—an incredible, asinine, stupendous thought that will more than likely lead to my extremely painful death—and I find myself tightly gripping the notes in one hand and his pencil in the other.

"I dunno if this will be helpful, but something tells me it might," I say hastily, thrusting the papers back into his hand. "Thanks again for the directions, Yagami-senpai! Happy New Year!"

Unceremoniously, I whirl around and take off down the street.

* * *

><p>"What an interesting human," Ryuk comments with a gruff laugh.<p>

Light, on the other hand, is too busy staring down at the two lines scrawled on the back of his notes to pay attention to his shinigami or the fact that Julia just wished him a happy New Year four days early.

'Naomi Misora doesn't wear her ring. Ryuzaki made Beyond Birthday.'


End file.
